


This Broken Place

by RetroactiveCon, SophiaCatherine



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: (only occasionally and will be warned for), Autistic Mick Rory, BDSM, Bondage, Flogging, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kink Negotiation, Kneeling, Leonard Snart is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Non-Sexual Kink, Paddling, Roleplay, Roleplay of Non-Consensual Spanking, Sexual Content, Spanking, Under-negotiated Kink, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:15:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26304001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RetroactiveCon/pseuds/RetroactiveCon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophiaCatherine/pseuds/SophiaCatherine
Summary: "Well." Len isn't going to admit that the thought of taking Mick over his lap is appealing, not if Mick will just do it to appease him. "Did some reading. Some of this kink stuff feels like it'd suit us. Not that we're..." Somehow, he feels a bit bashful about admitting, "Not that we're always rough with each other."Or, Mick and Len look into BDSM. Scene-by-scene, it can go brilliantly or dreadfully for them, but overall, they'd like to think it's changing things for the better.
Relationships: Mick Rory/Leonard Snart
Comments: 20
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blueelvewithwings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueelvewithwings/gifts).



> As it seems only fair, to thank her for her patience, this fic is for blueelvewithwings, who has eagerly awaited the publication of a kinky Coldwave based-on-RP fic. We hope you like it, Aurelia!
> 
> The title of the fic is a lyric from [Without You](https://youtu.be/9Lahbz-f2a8) by Ashes Remain.

Len can't say he meant to find himself here. Sometimes, in between plotting for heists, he just gets bored and clicks around online until he finds himself so far from his starting point that he can't trace the path. In this case, he's not sure he's averse to the path he took, as it's led him to spanking. Not literally - yet.

"Hey Mick." His partner is, as usual, nursing a beer. They'll have to do something about that if they ever intend to plan what the internet calls a 'scene' properly. "Do you know anything about kink? Because some of this stuff seems right up your alley." He's going to do his best to pretend he doesn't mean wax play, at least right away, but something about the idea of spanking seems like it would appeal to Mick. In either direction.

Mick shrugs at the TV. “Sure. Slept with a guy who liked to tie me up once. That was okay.” He stretches. “Oh, and remember Chloe? She had this whip...” His voice trails off. Len’s not sure what to make of that until he finishes, “Guess I liked whatever turned her on.” He turns to Len, eyes suddenly narrowed. “Why?”

"Well." Len isn't going to admit that the thought of taking Mick over his lap is appealing, not if Mick will just do it to appease him. "Did some reading. Some of this stuff feels like it'd suit us. Not that we're..." Somehow, he feels a bit bashful about admitting, "Not that we're always rough with each other." Because he doesn't want Mick dwelling too long on that, he asks, "So, the tying you up and the whipping - did that do it for you? Or would something a little...dunno, easier, be a better place to start?"

Mick’s giving him the weirdest look. Len is fully prepared to change the subject - easier than the other thing, which tends to be fighting - when Mick sits back and looks like he’s actually giving it some thought. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “It did it for me. If the other one was into it.” He stands up, stepping towards Len and his laptop at the table, and peering over his shoulder. “Huh,” he says. “Spanking, huh?”

"Yeah." Apparently they’re really having this discussion. Len's not going to pretend he's past the point of sometimes being shy with his partner, but if they're having this talk, he might as well be honest. "I know you've got feelings you chase - physical feelings - and I figured, you know, maybe spanking would be one of those feelings. Plus I wouldn't say no to that level of control. You know me." He offers Mick a too-bright grin. Now might be soon to mention that he also wouldn't mind having that control stripped away. That can come later, if Mick wants.

Mick’s eyes skitter away while he’s thinking. He’s so cute when he’s pensive, not that Len would tell him that. After a while, he looks back at Len. It’s clear from the look in his eyes that he’s not just saying this to appease him. “We should plan this out, if we’re doing it, yeah? Safewords and that.”

Len nods. He wouldn't take Mick into something like this with no way out. They've both got their limits, but they're not good at talking about them (or even knowing them, sometimes), so they've got to have a way to stop each other. "What did you use with Chloe?" After a dreadful thought occurs to him, he ventures, "You...did have one with Chloe?"

Mick takes his time answering. Len is suddenly much more nervous than he was at the start of the conversation. “Not so much,” he admits. “Uh, Tom - guy who tied me up - we had one then. I can’t remember what it was, though. Years ago.”

"That's fine." Len can see the moment his partner worries he's done something wrong - but as far as Len can tell, this is all pretty flexible outside of basic safety rules. If Mick was new at the time, those rules weren't his to know. Chloe should have guided him. "It's got to be something we'd never say in a scene. Go-to for new kinksters is the stoplight system - green for all good, yellow for slow down, red for full stop. We could use that, if you wanted?" The idea of a way for Mick to let him know when he’s approaching a limit they both know about is appealing. Len could see yellowing him a few times and backing off, just to make Mick comfortable with the idea that he'd back off if told. "Or we could use something like Keystone or, I dunno, Chevy. Something we wouldn't say otherwise."

Mick takes a drink of beer - buying himself time to think of an answer, probably. “Don’t wanna forget, though,” he says, and, yeah, that’s Len’s concern, too. “You know me and words...” He sets his beer decisively down. “Colors.” 

"Good," Len praises instantly. He might as well get used to it. Praise is still something of a rarity between them, even after all these years. If he's gonna be in charge of Mick when they're doing something so potentially hazardous, he needs to have a way to make sure his partner knows he's doing well. "Tell me again what they mean." No reason not to check that Mick's understood - they'd regret it more if he assumed.

Mick’s eyes narrow at that. Len hopes he doesn’t think he’s being mocked. “Green means all good. We carry on. Yellow, slow down - take a break? Red, we’re done.” 

"Can mean take a break," Len affirms. "Can also mean be gentler - say, if I start working my way up with the spanking, getting more forceful, you can tell me yellow if I hit too hard and I'll go back to being gentler. That one I'll clarify in-scene, 'what's wrong?', sort of a thing. Red, no clarifications in-scene. They wait until you're comfortable, calm, and safe." He reaches out and takes Mick's free hand, rubbing his thumb idly over the broad, tough knuckles. "I'll ask you again before every scene. Not to mock, just to make it habit. I'd rather bore you to tears asking you than have you forget how to safeword out if you need to."

Mick gives him the smallest of smiles and squeezes his hand in return. “Yeah. I get it.” He raises an eyebrow. “You too, though, Lenny, yeah? You figure out you don’t wanna be spanking me after all, you call red.” He gives Len a significant look. 

Len pretends not to know why it’s significant. The thought of calling red if he's got Mick in a good headspace is unappealing, whatever might happen in his own head. He might need to, though, if it looks like Mick needs a way out and has forgotten the word. "Yeah, of course."

He turns back to the computer and scrolls down so Mick can see the pictures of implements lined up. "Gonna assume you wouldn't want to start with these - and I'd need practice, if I was going to wield them safely - but still. Worth thinking about for the future." With a crooked grin, he adds, "Maybe nothing like Chloe's whip, from the sound of it."

Mick chuckles, peering over from behind Len’s shoulder. “Nah, but I like the look of those better.” He rests a hand on Len’s shoulder, and the pressure is perfect. “So how are we starting? And when?” He pulls on the spinny office chair that Len’s sitting in, turning him around, and gives him a grin. “Tonight?” he asks, bouncing his eyebrows.

"Tonight? My hand, that..." Len reaches back, making the movement obvious before settling his hand on Mick's hip. "...admittedly lovely ass of yours?" He likes that idea, he realizes. Mick shivers at his touch, and he almost answers it with one of his own. He'll need to be careful - they've both got their issues with touch, some of which worsen unpredictably - but hell yes he wants this. "Then I want you to stop drinking starting now," he says in a tone that brooks no argument. "We're not doing our first scene if you're too drunk to call red."

Mick’s eyebrows go up, but after a blink or two, he sets his beer down. “Yeah. Okay.” 

The fact that Mick obeys without complaint, even when his beer comes into question, suggests Len's tone might be more effective than he thinks. "Good," he praises again, just to get into the habit. "Oh," he adds, before Mick goes away. "And I..." He almost suggests pulling up articles for Mick to read before realizing that even the ones he found explaining it for beginners might be too long. "I found some articles about subspace and subdrop that would be particularly relevant for you. Do you want me to pull them up for you to look at, or do you want the highlights from me?"

Mick frowns at him. Len had thought that might be a lot for his partner to take in. “Highlights,” he murmurs, glancing away.

Len knows better than to offer any direct comfort - it makes Mick feel weak, which he hates. Better to do as he's offered. "Subspace can happen during a scene - basically, you know how when you get in a fight, you get buzzed from it and you don't feel the pain of the hits as much?" They've both been in enough fights to know that feeling. "Same principle, but because you don't get to move and fight back, burn it off, it can take you deep in your head. Sounds like it can be alarming for new kinksters. The thing to remember is that I'll be there with you."

“Makes sense.” Then Mick frowns and asks an excellent question. “What about you? Same kind of shit happens when you’re throwing a punch as taking one. That’s gotta build up for the... other guy, too.”

"That's called flow." Len grins. He'd stumbled on some poor kink researcher's diagrams on Google - useful as hell. "It's about hitting your stride, knowing you're in control and doing well. It doesn't impair the Dom's decision-making as much as subspace does for the sub. If the Dom snaps out of flow for some reason, that can be a mess, and that's...well, drop can happen for either person. Tangled feelings, anger or worthlessness that are perfectly normal, out of your control. Having your partner there to remind you that you did well and you're both safe is what's important there."

“Fair enough.” Mick runs his hand down Len’s neck. Len purrs and leans back into it. He loves when Mick pets him. “Let’s give it a go.”

"Tonight," Len reminds him. "We've got some time to kill. Can't do it sooner, you've just barely put your drink down." He squeezes Mick's ass. "But if you're all impatient about it, we can settle down on the couch and browse around for what we could do in later scenes. Because like I said, if you want those implements, I'd better obtain them soon and practice."

Mick grins. Len will have to play with his ass more often, if it gets that kind of reaction out of him. “Sure.” He heads for the couch. “Show me what’s getting you hot, boss.”

"Well, if you mean literally..." Len follows him and sets the laptop down half on his thigh and half on Mick's. It's old and radiates heat, but it works and he sees no reason to replace it (plus he can put the hot part on Mick, who likes it just fine). "There's also waxplay, though don't get any ideas about using just any candle - the wrong kind of wax will leave permanent marks." He shows Mick sets of waxplay candles in all kinds of colors, including a set in fiery red and orange that seem designed to appeal to just such a person as his partner.

Mick chuckles at the pun, then peers at the laptop. As Len suspected, the candles get a slow, broad smile. “Nice,” he says.

Len imagines it, his partner's broad back spattered with colorful wax, leaving fresh red marks that fade just so... Yeah, they’ll have to try that. 

"Well, and then there's the stuff for impact play." He shows Mick a selection of implements. The floggers alone range in size and strength, not to mention material, from softer smaller ones rated for beginners to larger ones with handles more fit for Mick's bear paws than Len's slender hands. He skips the wooden paddles, just because most of them give him thoughts of Lewis, but some of the softer leather-covered paddles are appealing. 

"And of course, wouldn't be kink without bondage." He was glad, when he first started looking, to see the broad leather cuffs. He's been in enough metal cuffs to know there's not much way to make them pleasurable.

Mick leans in, staring at the leather paddles. “Bet those feel good,” he murmurs. Then, to Len’s surprise, he points at the lined cuffs. “I like them.”

Len hums. The thought of his partner with a warm, paddled-red ass makes him shiver. Okay, so maybe initiating this conversation was one of the best ideas he's had in recent memory. "Wouldn't have to try anything too hard with them right off the bat," he promises. "And how would you tell me you needed out of those cuffs, in-scene?"

Mick tilts his head and, to Len’s relief, says, “Red,” firmly and clearly.

"Good." Len leans his head against Mick's shoulder. "And like I said, we'd build up to that. Not sure if rope would be better or worse," he adds on afterthought, showing Mick a picture of spools of brightly-colored rope. Belatedly, he realizes, "I'll have to take you shopping for some of this. There are different fiber types of rope, and I'd hate to pick one that would set off your sensory issues just because it happens to be a pretty color."

Mick grins. “Shopping? I can look through all the shit, see how it feels?” He leans in a little closer against Len, nodding at the rope. “Sounds good.” He slides his hand around Len’s back, settling it around his hip. His grip feels steadying and safe. Len wonders, just briefly, how Mick would feel about switching things around.

"Yeah, I'll take you shopping," he agrees. "Find a nice quiet place that won't ask too many questions - not gonna make you explain yourself if you don't want to."

Mick squeezes Len’s hip. “Nah. That’s what you’re for.” He winks at him. Len can’t help thinking that once the spanking starts, he’s going to make him pay for that cheeky comment.

—-

They keep looking at the 'toys and tools' section of the website until dinnertime. Mick has his eyes on Len the whole time they eat, thinking about this spanking thing he’s been offered, and the kink idea in general. He can’t say he minds the idea of Len taking him in hand, as it were. Sure, Len’s obsession with planning gets dull for Mick at times. But there are moments, when they’re pulling jobs, when the guy gets all firm and focused, and his orders are kind of a turn-on. Mick can’t say he’s never thought about taking that into the bedroom. He just didn’t think Len would be into it.

Still, he feels his nerves building through dinner, while his partner sits back and watches him with a glint in his eye. He thinks back to what Len said about the feelings that Mick chases. Yeah, that sounds like something they could play with. He loves intense experiences that get him lost in his head, and not just in a fire way. Chloe with her whip notwithstanding, Mick’s never been spanked. The thought of Len’s hand on his ass is getting him all hot.

After a filling dinner and some lazy cleanup, Len guides Mick toward the bedroom, a firm hand on his back, and Mick doesn’t even try to fight the shiver of excitement that runs through him.

Moving that strong hand to Mick’s hip, Len asks, "How do you want to do this? On the bed on your hands and knees? Over my lap? Pants on, around your knees, off completely?" 

When Mick was imagining this, he didn’t get as far as positions. It would feel like a lot to be completely naked, while they’re so new to this. But he can’t imagine a spanking would feel like much of anything through pants. “Pants around my knees,” he concedes. “I...” He glances up at Len, the planner. “I dunno about hands and knees, or what. How d’you think I’d like it?” His partner is not perfect, far from it, but there’s no one else Mick would trust with a question like that. Len knows him.

He gets the firm reply he’s looking for. "Over my lap." Len settles far back on the bed, giving Mick room to lay across him. Then he orders, "Pants down, over my lap, now."

Mick stops stock-still. That voice, the same commanding register as the boss uses on a heist, is going straight to his groin. It doesn’t snap him to attention, exactly. He’s too resistant to orders for that, and he has a moment of wondering if he should pretend to resist more than he really wants to. But Len’s raising a silent, no-nonsense eyebrow, and... damn. Mick’s pants are around his knees in a second, and he’s over Len’s lap before he can worry about whether it makes him feel like a child. It definitely does not.

"Tell me the safewords," Len orders again, still in that dominating voice. 

Mick represses an irritated sigh, in case that’d just earn him more spanks for being a little shit. Len’s already got him on the defensive from making him go over the safewords earlier, like he thought he’d forget them. His partner is sometimes okay with Mick feeling stupid, if it suits his own purposes. But apparently, doing what he’s told is key to the scene, so Mick does it. “Green, go. Yellow, pause. Red, stop.”

"Good boy." Len rubs his hand over Mick's ass. That feels good, mixed up with the anticipation of what Len’s about to do. "I'm going to spank you twenty-five times, each one harder than the last. If a hit is too hard, you say yellow, and I'll keep the force consistent after that. Is that understood?"

Mick tries to pay attention, or Len might throw in the towel. “Yeah. Green, Lenny.” He breathes through the mix of nerves and excitement, stirred up by Len’s firm orders and firmer voice.

"Good boy," Len says again - Mick doesn’t know if he loves or hates that - and then Len spanks him. "One." 

Mick feels his ass jolt, but he’s a little disappointed by the hit. It’s firm, but not hard enough. But the spanks will get harder, he reminds himself. Some little part of him he’s never listened to before suddenly wants to _thank_ Len for spanking him, and he wonders where that came from. Weird. 

Len keeps going. Mick doesn’t make a sound for a few hits. Then, as the force of the hits slowly increases, he feels a burn start to build, like a fire across his ass. Len is still counting, and it’s all lulling Mick into the kind of headspace he gets into when he sets fires - just as calm, but not quite the same. The force of the hits is keeping him in his body a fair bit more. 

There’s another hit, and Mick shivers. _Good._

By the time they reach twelve - halfway - Len checks in. "Color?"

“Green,” Mick says right away, keeping his voice strong and firm. He doesn’t want Len finding any excuse to stop now.

"Good boy." Len smooths his hand over Mick's ass. The touch is soothing on his warm skin. Then there’s another, more forceful hit, and Mick’s whole body rocks. He doesn’t resist the jolt. He just listens for Len’s, "Thirteen." 

Mick doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t quite this. Maybe he thought it would be hot and fun and he’d get turned on and distract Len into sex and that would be the end of it. And it is hot, but not quite like he expected. It’s calm, like a fire, only the fire’s building across his ass and through sore muscles. Len is very much in charge, but without any of the resistance Mick would feel any other time Len manhandled him.

And then his partner starts _praising_ him. "Look at you, taking your spanking so well. You're so good for me, Mick, taking all the pain I give you. Fourteen. Such a good boy."

God, it’s almost too much. Len doesn’t say things like this. Not even after a great job when Mick did everything right, especially since he’s a screw-up more often than not. But here he is, calling Mick a good boy. The thrill goes straight to his cock. He shivers again, wriggling a little to feel the sensation moving through his ass and into his legs.

"Impatient," Len laughs, rubbing his hand over Mick's ass and along his thighs. "Feels good, huh?"

“Yeah,” Mick breathes. “It’s good.” Another hit, and he gasps.

"Good boy," Len praises again. “Only a few more to go. You're so responsive. I wonder how you'll react when we get one of those pretty paddles you were looking at earlier, find out how that feels. I bet it'll hurt more, but it feels like the pain's no problem, is it?"

Mick considers that, to the extent that he can still think clearly. The pain is getting more intense, but it’s not pissing him off like when someone decks him. It’s grounding him, like pain does when he’s in control of it. “No,” he whispers. “It’s good.” Another, still harder hit, and he yelps.

"What's your color?" Len asks, rubbing his hand over the place he hit last. 

Mick doesn’t want him to stop now. They’re running out of spanks, and he could take _so many more._ “Green,” he insists, turning his head to look Len pleadingly in the eye.

"Good boy," Len says again, but he keeps talking. "Such a good boy, telling me your color, checking in when I ask. Do you want me to keep going past twenty-five, my good boy?"

Mick forces himself to think about his answer. He could go a lot more than twenty-five, but when they were talking earlier about whether Len would call red in this position, he’d wondered if Len was being reluctant about it. He knows his partner - Len would keep going forever if he thought Mick needed it, regardless of how he was feeling. That’s not always good. “Maybe... a few more?” Mick asks carefully, hoping he doesn’t sound as needy as he feels.

"Good," Len murmurs, petting his ass some more and then spanking him again. "We'll push it to thirty and then check in again." That _voice_ is doing it for Mick, and Len seems to pick up on that, carrying on. "Maybe next time I'll wear my gloves. Give you a taste of what leather can feel like on your skin before we try the paddle. Maybe I'll bend you over after a heist, make you take a spanking and then give you an after-heist fuck if you want it, keep you riding the high long after we've made our getaway. You'd love that, wouldn't you, being so good for me after a heist as well as during?"

Mick gets a vivid image of Len spanking him with _Mick’s_ gloves on, and he shivers again. His at-attention cock is rubbing against Len’s thigh now, but he ignores it in favor of focusing on the deep ache and recurring sting against his ass cheeks. He likes that better. “Yes,” he whispers. He feels like Len has broken him open. He gasps again. “Ahh— yes.”

Len crooks his thigh up, changing the angle just a bit, and spanks him hard. The ache of it goes deep, and Mick moans. "Twenty-five," Len says proudly. "Keep going, good boy?"

“Green,” Mick says, as clearly as he can. Len sounds like he’s seriously into this. The two of them feel more in sync than when they’re pulling a job. Mick could never have imagined peaking above that high, but this might be better. Of course, that thought just pushes Mick deeper into his slow-building, floaty headspace, and he closes his eyes as Len starts in on the places where his ass meets his thighs. He can feel sweat running down his head, clouding his eyes. Len is still increasing the force of each spank, and he shouts out with the next one. “Yellow,” he murmurs, very reluctantly. “Keep the hits the... the same as the one before... yeah?”

"Thank you for telling me," Len coos - oh, he sounds so proud. "Such a good boy, telling me what you need. I only want to cause you as much pain as you like, my good boy." The warmth in Mick’s belly is starting to rival the one in his ass. 

A few more, and Mick can hardly tell one slap from the next now. It takes him a second to notice that Len’s hand is resting gently on his ass. "Let's stop here, my good boy,” Len says. “You did so well, took the pain so beautifully, but I don't want to push you too far."

Mick sighs, reaching a hand up to his eyes to swipe away tears, of all things. He wants nothing more than to keep going. But Len’s in charge, and that’s an unexpectedly amazing feeling. “Yeah. Okay.” He deflates a little against Len, wondering what happens now. He’s already starting to feel heavy again, the floaty-light high of the spanking fading fast, even though the glorious sting of what must be a very red ass is still burning behind him.

"Come here." Len leaves Mick's pants down around his knees, turning Mick over onto the mattress. He shifts, gathering Mick into his arms. "Shh." Len’s voice is soothing. "I'll go get you some water and some cream for your ass in just a minute. For now, we can just rest." 

When did Mick start crying? It’s a good kind of crying, but everything’s heavy and weird and maybe this wasn’t a good idea. But Len’s right here. They’re cuddling, of all things, and it’s nice. They can do this for a minute. He breathes against Len’s neck, still more comforted by his whispered praise and reassurance than he should be. 

"Hey." Len strokes Mick's tears away with his thumb. "Crying is good. Crying is normal. You're so good for me, letting everything out like this. Letting me see you like this." 

He’s got a point. As long as they've been together, even with the dire straits they sometimes find themselves in, they’re not the weepy types. Mick doesn’t think he’s cried in front of his partner, not really, since he was sixteen and curled up on the floor of their shared cell in juvie, admitting what ended up him up there. Len looked a hell of a lot more uncomfortable about it back then. Right now, he’s acting like this is all part of the process. 

As he focuses on Len’s hand moving up and down his back, Mick has the odd thought that the same hand was hitting his ass a moment ago. Even now that he’s heavy and tired, he knows he wants to do this again. “This was... good,” he murmurs into Len’s shoulder.

"Yeah it was." There’s a surprising brush of Len’s lips over the top of Mick's head. "I'm gonna go get you some water and, like...berries or something, something easy to snack on. Do you want to come with me so you can see what I'm doing? Or do you want to wait here and get comfortable?"

“Here,” Mick murmurs. He wants a minute. Turns out, coming down from a high like that can take a few.

"Okay." 

But it seems Len isn’t done with the surprises. He takes the old silver ring he got from that memorable shitshow of a heist, all those years ago, and presses it into Mick’s hand. That’s weird, but kind of nice. Mick rolls it around in his clenched fist, feeling all the old dents and dings in it. It’s a little like his partnership with Lenny, his coming-down-from-a-high brain supplies distantly. Old and rough and a little dented, but it still matters.

By the time he’s finished thinking about that, he’s stopped crying, and Len is back with a bowl of berries that he puts on the pillow by Mick’s head, apparently with no thought to the mess it’ll cause. That’s almost unprecedented, from his uptight partner. This kink thing could be good for the two of them.

"Eat as much as you feel up to,” Len says, disappearing down the bed. “I'm gonna put some lotion on your ass."

The cold lotion stings for a minute, making Mick hiss, but it soon takes the heat out. “Ahhh,” he sighs. “Good.”

"Back with me?" Len checks, voice still weirdly gentle. "Looked like you went somewhere for a moment. Hope it was somewhere good." 

Mick chuckles against the pillow, munching on a berry. “Head’s been a lot of places tonight.” He tries to look at Len over his shoulder, but he’s just out of sight. “What about you? How’re you doing?”

"Green," Len says teasingly. Then he pauses, clearly considering. "I don't know. I liked getting to spank you. Now's the hard part - the looking after and shit. You know how bad I am at that." 

“Nah, you’re okay.” His partner always knew how to take care of Mick. Strange that he doesn’t know that.

More quietly, Len adds, "And I didn't want to hit you too hard. Didn't want to really hurt you."

Mick chuckles. “That’s kinda weird, isn’t it? You’re never shy of decking me too hard.” He hums, enjoying the feel of Len’s hands slowly massaging his butt. “I’d have told you if you went too hard. Promise.” He’s reaching a hand back towards Len before he can think better of it. 

"Punching you is different. You're not going to such a weird place in your mind then. But… I believe you." Len leans up, keeping his lotion-y hands away from Mick’s, nudging his cheek into Mick's outstretched hand. "This is nice," he mumbles.

Mick laughs again, running his hand gently down Len’s face. His weird little partner. “Yeah. Real nice.” He winks. “We’re doing this again, yeah?”

"Better believe it." Len scoots up the bed to lay down at Mick's side. "I meant what I said about spanking you after a heist - and taking you shopping, when we have time. I know the brick-and-mortar store of the website we were looking at. We could go there whenever we have some downtime.”

Mick can’t suppress the little shiver that runs through him at the idea of the boss spanking him after a job. He wraps his arms around his partner. “Yeah. After a heist. That’d be good.” He grins at Len. “And maybe working each other up to sex with it sometime, like you said?”

“You want me to spank you nice and sensitive and then flip you over and fuck you while you’re feeling floaty?” Len teases. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Mick tugs Len tighter against him - fuck his worries about _cuddling_ \- and smirks. “Yeah. You could do that to me... or maybe...” He pulls away a little to look hard at Len. “You always wanna be the one in the driving seat, huh? Never think of letting me boss you around?” Now there’s a good idea - Mick getting to take out his frustrations at being nothing but the good little helper on Len's ass, asking him how it feels to be the one taking orders for once.

Len makes a little noise that Mick wants to record and play to his crew. "N-nah," he lies. "Never crossed my mind."

Mick guffaws at the ceiling and pulls Len against him, kissing his head. “Never.”

Len hums and tucks his head into the crook of Mick's neck. "Drink your water and finish your berries," he orders. "I told you about how nasty a drop can be. Don't wanna do that to you."

"Could have got me chocolate," Mick grumbles, but he eats. Len looks a little stiff, flexing his hand like it hurts. Mick wants to ask if he's okay, but he can feel the two of them returning to their old roles, and it's not the kind of thing he'd ask Len outside of... what did Len call it? A scene.

"Still might,” Len agrees. “The pages I read said foods high in simple sugars - they recommended orange juice, but you wanna talk about potential mess in bed? - can help with preventing subdrop. Chocolate will help too, I suspect, since the problem is brain chemicals and chocolate makes the good ones."

Mick gets a sudden stab of— something. Resentment? He'd been enjoying the care and cuddles, but Len's all up in his head again, back in planning boss mode. He’s lounging on the bed like he doesn't have a care in the world - not even Mick. Sometimes, Len drives him round the fucking twist. "Not everything has to be about research and planning, Snart," he gripes.

"I can't plan how I have to take care of you? Mick, we're both new to this, I have to make sure we're doing it safely."

Mick glances away, something still churning in his stomach that he doesn't want to look straight at. "Yeah. Guess so. You want me to take that bowl to the kitchen before you snap at me for messing up the pillow?"

"I've got it," Len not-quite-snaps. He gets up, heading back to the kitchen before Mick can point out he didn’t eat anything himself.

Mick eyes Len when he returns, a few minutes later. "Getting late.” At least going to bed is always an excuse to cuddle, because they can both pretend they're too deeply asleep to notice. "I might turn in. You gonna get some rest?"

"Yeah." Len sinks down onto the mattress, close, but not close enough for Mick. "...Night." 

Mick rolls his eyes to high heaven. Whatever's got into his partner, he's clearly stuck in his head now, and Mick's not having that. Asshole - always taking care of everyone else, never letting anyone look out for him. "Hey. C'm'ere." He reaches out for Len, hoping he's not so pissed off that Len’s response is decking him. They've been close under the safe cover of night after a fight, for god's sake. Mick can't have pushed it too far _now._ If he has, this kink thing isn't gonna work out…

Len does not, it turns out, deck him. Instead, against all expectations, he turns around and enthusiastically latches onto him, burying his face in Mick's shoulder. "Hey," he murmurs.

If Mick was confused before, he's really clueless now. He reaches his arms around his weird little partner, rubbing his shoulder softly. He's too nervous to ask what's wrong, but he figures just holding him can't hurt.

"So did you need to get up and, I dunno, brush your teeth?" Len mumbles.

Mick sighs. "I'm good, Lenny. For fuck's sake, stop looking after me. More worried about you, if I'm honest." That last comment is a big risk, but if Len pushes him away anymore Mick's really going to lose his shit.

Very quietly, Len says, "...I feel like I did something wrong." He huffs a laugh against Mick's neck. "I don't know. It's normal, I think. Told you about drop."

This time, Mick's sigh comes out fonder. He runs a hand over Len's head. "Hey,” he chides. “You didn't do nothing wrong." He's not sure he can put this into words and not sound like he's losing his mind, but they've just done something new and risky. Talking about it seems to be the theme of the night. "Just... I liked being close. And then you were all distant and _you_ again." He takes a bigger risk, leaning in to kiss Len's head. 

Slowly, cautiously, Len leans in and presses their lips together in a rare, real kiss. They don't kiss much, him and Len. Just on special occasions, and when they're having sex. "I didn't mean to pull away,” Len says. “I just...wasn't sure when the closeness ended and the... _us_ started again."

Mick can't help it - he coughs a breathy laugh. "Dunno," he admits. "But if we're gonna keep doing this, we might have to watch how _us_ we are around it. 'Specially if we're gonna bring each other down when we're feeling all..." He trails off, not knowing what word he's going for there. Eh, Len'll get it.

"Yeah. We'll push each other deeper into a drop if we go back to how bad we usually are at talking." Len snuggles closer to him. "You were good for me," he murmurs. "So damn good..."

Mick chuckles. He thinks back to his partner spanking him, his hand on Mick's ass, his voice firm and sure, sounding like he was made for it. "You were pretty good yourself, Lenny," he mumbles, as sleep falls around him like a blanket.


	2. Chapter 2

They sleep soundly that night, more than most. Len keeps that in mind, especially once they find a time for him to take Mick down to that cute little kink shop he'd noticed. Might be they need to find some kind of soft scene they could use for sleepless nights, if it works this well. 

If they'd find such an option anywhere, it would be this shop, which Len has underestimated. He finds this out when he walks through the door. The store is small, but every space is well-used. One wall is lined with books - sexy coloring books (he didn't know those were a thing), feminist literature, books on kinky and queer topics. The tables nearest them feature a formidable display of vibrators and dildos, including a series in pride flag colors that mostly make him laugh. The far wall is lined with bondage equipment - rope, cuffs, riggers - and a large metal rack has each of its four sections dedicated to a different kind of impact play. 

"Hi!" The lady at the counter greets them. Only when she speaks does Len notice an array of - presumably glass - toys locked inside a display case that doubles as the checkout counter. 

"Tell me if it's too much," he murmurs to Mick. His partner is easily overstimulated in shops, and he doesn't always feel it come on until it gets bad.

Mick just grins at him. “All good. What do you like, boss?”

He ought to direct Mick to the waxplay stuff, but it's the floggers that catch his eye. Most of them are garish - bright red and black is a common color scheme, a few are a positively atrocious purple - but a few are in natural-ish browns and feel just right when he touches them. He's not sure whether he wants to wield them or be hit with them. Mick’s voice in his ear, low and raspy and eager, does nothing to help him decide. “I wanna try one. See how it feels...“

Len makes a noise he'll be ashamed of if he can get his brain off the mental image of Mick on his hands and knees, his skin turned bright red from being flogged. "Maybe we should get some of the smaller ones to start," he says, making a valiant attempt to pretend he doesn't sound a little bit breathless. "Though if you're as greedy for sensation as you acted while you were getting spanked, maybe we should invest in a bigger one too, work our way up to it..." 

When Mick replies, he sounds breathless at the fantasy. That might just be the hottest thing Len’s ever heard. “I want one.” He glances around the shop. Len can’t figure out why until he asks, “Think anyone’ll mind if I try one out on, like, a thigh?”

Len looks around, checking for himself. The shop is all but empty - it's them, the shopkeeper, and a trio who seem to know what they're looking for and are shopping with purpose. "Doubt it," he says, "and better a thigh than your hand - just don't go too hard." He considers asking Mick to try it on him, but he's not sure he'll be able to handle that just yet. With whatever his brain is doing, he might need to sit down or something if that happened.

Mick glances down at himself as though assessing how easy that will be - pretty easy, given the shorts he’s wearing. He picks up a brown flogger that had also caught Len’s eye. Len refrains from congratulating him on his good choice. Lifting a corner of his shorts, he draws back the flogger and slaps it down against a meaty part high on his thigh. Whatever it feels like, it makes Mick hiss and then break out into a grin. “I like it,” he says.

"That one, huh?" It's a good size - firm in the hand, not wispy like some of the starter floggers, but not intimidating, either. Len grabs it and holds it. It feels good in his hand, and he's seized by the conviction that no other one will do. "C'mon, then. I promised you we'd look at stuff for temperature play."

The candles are securely stashed between the cuffs and the rope. Len remembers Mick expressing an interest in the cuffs, so while Mick stares at the pretty colors of candles, Len samples a few of the cuffs. They're thick - dark, flat pads go around the wrists and secure tight with buckled leather straps. They seem so much nicer than handcuffs. He tries one on himself and wriggles a little - they could chafe at the edges of the pads if squirming happened, but they won't rub the skin raw as fast as metal cuffs.

In hindsight, leaving Mick alone to look at the wax play candles was a bad idea. He doesn’t always do well if asked to choose. “You pick,” he calls over to Len, and yeah, that might be better. By the time Len turns to join him, though, he’s over trying out paddles from a nearby display.

Len grabs the cuffs, then looks around for a basket, which at this rate, they're going to need. Once he finds one, he picks a set of candles in warm colors. They'll give a wonderful flamelike effect when they melt, though he's suddenly not sure whether Mick will be careful with the dripping wax rather than stare entranced into the flame and let the wax fall wherever.

Candles and cuffs acquired, Len joins him by the paddles. "You like that?" He takes the paddle from Mick’s hand to examine it. It's thin and flexible, all dark leather, and looks like it would leave a mean print on an unfortunate ass. "Good choice."

Mick bounces his eyebrows at him. “Yeah.” Just as quickly, his happy look shifts into a chiding stare. Len doesn’t understand until he says, “But you gotta like all this stuff we’re getting too, boss. No point you not enjoying giving out what I’m taking.”

"Oh, no worries there, I like the way it feels. Just, until we see how it hits, I might reserve something like this for an actual offense, rather than a stim-spanking." He's not sure he'd call paddling Mick's ass fun unless Mick shows him that it doesn't hurt too badly.

Mick blinks at him. Len wonders if he’s said too much before Mick scratches the back of his head and stammers out, “I, uh…No objections there, boss.”

"Though we might have to figure out whether it will be safe after..." Len glances around the shop. No, too much risk, even in a whisper. "If something goes wrong, I don't want to take it out on you if you feel like crap about it already. But we'll probably work that out as we go along."

Mick just nods. That’s not the kind of in-depth communication they should be aiming for, but right now, Len will take it.

"So." He consults the basket. "Paddle. Flogger. Candles. Cuffs. Rope - I promised you we could look through the types, so you can see what feels good on your skin. Plus it looks like they have some nice colors."

The rope section is large and well-stocked: natural and synthetic fibers, different thicknesses, pre-cut lengths and cut-your-own spools, and a beginner's kit that comes with a book. Len figures this is something to practice before a scene, and he wonders if he should be looking into groups to attend to practice with people or if he should settle for Youtube tutorials.

Given that it’s this overwhelming for him, it’s got to be a lot for Mick. When he glances over, his partner looks totally lost. When he sees Len glancing his way, his expression turns into an obvious plea for help. That’s all right; Len can take charge here. 

He doesn't particularly like any of this, but there's a soft-ish cotton rope that seems about the right thickness, and when he winds his hand in it, it doesn't chafe appallingly. "Try this," he suggests, holding it up for Mick's approval. "And if none of them work, we can either go somewhere else to look for more options or we can tie you up over your clothes so you get the pressure without the chafe."

Mick hums as he handles the rope. He’s not thrilled, Len figures, but it’s the best they’ve got. “Could work,” he says. “Over clothes for days when sensory ain’t great?”

"Yeah, absolutely." Len adds the rope and a book about basic bondage to the basket with the rest. "I'll go through and pick out a few patterns that can be done over clothes, even something like a basic harness that you can just wear over a t-shirt." The thought of Mick walking around with a rope harness, unrestrained but getting that pressure through his shirt...it feels to Len like leaving a claim on his partner, even if he’s the only other person there to see it. "And you don't mind the blue?"

Mick waggles his eyebrows at him. “Nah. I kinda like it. Like I’m... yours.” And wow, hearing that out loud goes right to Len’s head. That’s good to know for later. He’s going to make Mick say it plenty in future scenes. 

"Nothing else catches your eye?" Len turns to do one final sweep of the room. He laughs a little bit when he sees the gags. "You don't want to stuff a ball gag in my mouth sometimes?" Suggesting it calls up more mental images - himself, tied up on his knees and gagged while Mick watches the game, finally fed up with Len's planning and complaining, and him unable to do a thing about it. He isn't prepared to go a little weak in the knees at that particular thought.

Mick doesn’t look too sure of that. Huh - Len would have thought the chance to shut him up would be Mick’s weakness the way possessiveness just turned out to be his. “Is that a bit... like, advanced for us?” 

"We can work up to it," Len promises. He catches Mick's hand. "You're right - I haven't subbed for you at all yet, we're not throwing me off the deep end tied up and gagged. Plus, we both have to practice our rope-tying before we do anything that restrictive." 

Mick threads his fingers into Len’s, smiling a little. “Like the idea of you kneeling for me, though. Really like it... if you’re up for that.” 

"Yeah," Len agrees. He considers grabbing one of the ball gags, but he wouldn't know where to start. And it's not like they can't come back once they're a bit more advanced in their kink practices. Playfully, he gestures at the half of the store they haven't explored. It's not like they lack for toys, but still...they're here, he might as well ask. "Anything catch your eye?"

In hindsight, he should have known this would get to be too much for Mick this quickly. Rather than give a verbal answer, he tugs on Len’s hand and thumbs in the direction of the register.

"Okay." Len squeezes his hand and invites, "You can wait outside if you want, or you can stay with me while I check out, but I'll be quick."

He keeps that promise. He deflects any questions from the lady at the register, who thankfully seems to have caught a glimpse of Mick and figured out that he's getting overwhelmed. She recommends that he snap a picture of the munch schedule on the bulletin board, which he does as he darts out the door.

"All done," he soothes, tugging Mick out into the fresh air. It's no less overwhelming out here, but it's at least less concentrated. "All done, we can go home now."

Mick drags in a deep breath. He must have been more overwhelmed than Len thought. “Gimme a minute.” He leans back against a wall, scuffing his shoe in the dirt.

Len props himself against the wall near Mick - not close enough to crowd him, but not far enough that he'll feel abandoned. It's a careful balance that he's worked out over time, though he'd never let Mick know exactly how hard he's worked to get it right. "So," he says. "Next time, more of a shopping list? Get in, get the goods, get gone?"

“Hah.” Mick lifts his eyes to give him the edge of a grin. “Nah, I liked checking out all the shit. Maybe late night opening next time though.” He reaches out for Len’s hand. The easy request for touch is new, especially in public, but Len’s hardly going to deny him. He lets Mick take his hand and stim with his ring. “Wanna go home and try some of this out?”

"Promises, promises," Len teases, pretending he's not just as excited as Mick seems. Because his partner seemed to like the idea, he says, "More impact play? The flogger, or...maybe we should try the paddle outside of a punishment scene, just once, to test what it feels like on that delightful ass of yours?"

Mick tilts his head. If Len’s not mistaken about the look in his eye, he likes that idea quite a bit. “Huh. I’m game if you are.” Still holding Len’s hand, he tugs him towards their bikes.

\---

When they get back to the apartment, Len spends an annoyingly long time putting away their other purchases. Mick’s sure it’s just to mess with him - keep him in suspense. But finally Len grabs the paddle and makes a hell of an offer. "So...if I tell you to take your clothes off and kneel on the bed like a good boy, how likely are you to do it?"

Mick lets out a low, quiet growl. Sure, he did as he was told yesterday, but not all of that ‘good boy’ stuff felt right, especially at the beginning. Mick is many things, but he is _not_ a good boy. He suddenly wants Len to know it, the way the boss knows he never sticks to the plan on a job. “Gonna make me?”

Len looks at him like Mick’s just said exactly the right thing. The boss really does like a challenge, doesn’t he? "Oh, sure,” Len says, “I could do that." He taps the paddle lightly against his palm in warning. "But I don't think I need to. I saw you in that store, handling the paddle. I bet if I wait long enough, you'll bend yourself right over and _beg_ me to spank you." He steps closer, presses himself flush against Mick's chest, and whispers, "Unless, of course, you just want my hands on you, bratty boy."

Damn. Mick can’t believe he’s this hot for Len already, but that paddle and that _voice_ are really doing it for him. He wants that thing against his ass, now. But there’s no way he’s giving in that easily. “Maybe I do,” he murmurs in Len’s ear.

Len seems to take that as even more of a challenge. He grabs Mick's wrist, steps around behind him, and twists his arm up his back. Mick fights not to react. Is Len looking for a fight, not a scene? He knows Mick doesn't like being held down - as if Len could even hold him for long - but for some reason, he lets Len get away with it. That glint in his partner’s eye might have something to do with it. He gives in, letting himself be pushed towards the bed as Len scolds, "The harder you make me work for this, the more you'll feel it in your ass when you're on the bed. So we can do this the easy way, and you can strip and get on your hands and knees, or you can make me strip you and force you down, and you'll feel this for days."

Mick can’t decide if that’s a threat or a promise. He can tell from playing with that paddle that it could reach a point where it would be pretty unpleasant to feel on his ass. But damn if he doesn’t want to see if Len could really take him there. He’s always been a little turned on by this side of his partner, the mouthy punk kid who grew up and became exactly what he wanted to be - someone who said “jump” and everyone did. Mick puts on a good show of finding that annoying as fuck, but it’s hot, when Len pushes him around and lets him know exactly who’s boss. 

“Fine. I’m going,” Mick gripes, too excited to fight much longer. Just as long as Len knows Mick isn’t a pushover. 

"Good boy." Len’s tone says he knows this is a game, but there’s a bite to it. He’s taunting Mick with his submission. Mick considers throwing the ‘good boy’ back in Len’s face this time, but he has a feeling that a good chunk of him is going to be craving that praise before this scene is up. 

Once they reach the bed, Len keeps Mick’s arm pinned behind his back. With the other hand, he tosses the paddle onto the bed, then reaches around and undoes Mick's fly, manhandling his pants down. "On your knees." 

Mick is up on the bed and on his knees before he even knows he’s moved. Dammit, Len - that is some voice. He resolves to fight back again in a minute.

"Good boy," Len says again, sounding like he means it this time. He runs his hand over Mick's ass, giving it a light slap. "I'm tempted to make you beg me anyway after that display, but a promise is a promise, even to a bratty boy." 

He holds the paddle against Mick's ass. It already feels amazing against his skin - he can’t wait to feel it spanking him. "How many do you think you deserve for your misbehavior?" Len’s voice scolds behind him. "Fifteen spanks? More?"

“You’re in charge,” Mick says in the most sarcastic voice he can manage, modelling it on Len’s own drawl. Apparently he really is in the mood to be a brat, but he’s curious to see what Len does, too.

"Twenty," Len says decisively. Mick represses a laugh of triumph at goading him into a good number. "I'll keep count, but I expect you to thank me for each one." Then Len’s tone softens a little. "Remind me of our safewords."

Mick surprises himself with how quickly he answers. “Green, keep going. Yellow, pause. Red, stop.” 

"Good boy," Len says again, then brings the paddle down on Mick's ass. "One."

The paddle stings immediately, a hot sharp pain that lasts well beyond the hit, and it’s so good. But the idea of _thanking_ Len grates like sharp edges inside Mick. Still, it’s probably about getting him into the headspace he ended up in yesterday, and that wasn’t so bad. A little reluctantly, he murmurs, “Thank you,” into the mattress.

Len brings the paddle down again - another sharp sound and more pain spreading across Mick's ass. "Two," Len says, adding softly, "If you could see yourself."

Mick hisses. Only two, and it already feels like _that_. His ass is beginning to burn already, a delicious pain that he could get lost in. But just like yesterday, he feels oddly grounded in his body. It’s good. “Thank you,” he says, a little more clearly.

Len settles into a rhythm, slower than yesterday, presumably giving Mick time to get used to the increasingly painful hits. Mick sinks into the spanking, all the tension he’d felt at the store just melting out of him. "My good boy," Len praises. "Taking your spanking so well, being so obedient for me."

Len knows exactly what he’s doing, the asshole. Mick’s not deep enough into subspace yet to _like_ the idea that he’s obedient. But what the boss wants, the boss gets... and that’s all part of this, isn’t it? He hisses again at the throb when Len lays down a paddle stroke right over the last one. “Thank you, boss,” he says, meaning it just a little more than last time.

"I made you wait for this," Len says between counts. They're getting close to twenty. Mick's relaxed, but he's not floating yet. That’s probably why Len increases the force a little. "Made you earn every strike. They'd better be worth it, because I won't let you push me past twenty this time. This is new and I don't know how badly it could damage you - not keen to find out, either."

This time, Mick groans before he can get the “Thank you” out. The bite of the paddle is intense, but he can feel it soothing him right along with Len’s firm voice. He doesn’t know if he’s heard all of what Len’s saying. He does know his partner has him firmly in hand. That’s… that’s good. The last of Mick’s composure gives out as the next swat pushes his hips into the bed and _burns_. “Fuck... thank you, boss.”

"You're welcome," Len says, with an extra hard swat and a triumphant, "Twenty." He waits. 

Mick crumples onto the bed. A distant part of his brain wonders if he needs to ask to do that. This time, he doesn’t mind thanking Len one last time. “Thank you, boss,” he murmurs, between gasps. “That was... yeah. Thank you.” His brain is fizzing, like static. He wants Len’s arms around him now, but he doesn’t know how to ask, especially right now.

"You're welcome." Len sets the paddle aside and curls on the mattress next to his partner. He pulls Mick into his arms, guiding his head into the crook of his neck, and holds him tight. "Good boy. You were so good for me, taking your spanking like that. And I know, I know I ask for your obedience and your gratitude so often, but that doesn't mean they mean nothing to me, Mick." He rubs his hand over Mick's back. "And seeing you obey like this, even reluctantly, to the point of pain? Fuck, you have no idea how much that means to me."

Mick doesn’t know why he’s shaking like this. Adrenaline, that same faraway part of his brain supplies. “Len?” he murmurs, not entirely sure if his partner’s right here, arms around him or not. He got really floaty there, towards the end. Len’s talking about Mick obeying, and it doesn’t rankle anymore. Boss likes to see him submit, and Mick’s flooded with a weird kind of pride. He did good. “I’m a good boy?” he murmurs into Len’s shoulder.

"You are." Len kisses the top of his head and squeezes him tight. "You're my good boy, Mick. You're mine, and you're valued. Your submission is valued and dear to me and so good." Mick doesn’t remember Len ever praising him this much, and he’s still going. "I'm here. I've got you, and you were so good for me."

Mick knows he’s never been the best at understanding what he’s feeling, but he really doesn’t understand it now. Len’s praise, what he catches of it, is making a flood rise up inside him, starting low in his chest, burning there just like his ass, and rising up to his throat. Len’s telling him Mick is valued and... and _dear_. 

He’s crying into Len’s shoulder. Oh. Oh, that’s what it is.

"Oh." Len makes a soft, happy sound and kisses him again. "Oh, that's it. You're so good for me, showing me what you feel. That's it. Just let it go, good boy."

The more Len praises him, the harder Mick cries. He remembers sniffling for a bit yesterday, but he wasn’t outright sobbing like this. This hurts, in his chest and throat, worse than his still-burning ass. He doesn’t have any idea what’s wrong, but Len’s soothing murmurs and touches have opened up whole floodgates. He’s gonna be hella embarrassed about it in a minute, but right now, he just wants to keep hearing how important he is to Len. Because he _doesn’t know_.

"I haven't told you, have I?" Len, who seems to be reading his mind, is stroking his hand over the back of Mick's head, along his spine, stopping just shy of his spanked-red ass. "I don't tell you how much you mean to me, but you do. You mean the world to me, always have. And I'm sorry it took me beating the hell out of your backside for me to tell you, Mick. Because you've always meant the world to me."

Len’s shocked tone of realization is more than Mick can handle - if he thinks about it too much, he’s never going to stop bawling. He lets Len’s hand on his back bring him down to earth a bit, starting to catch his breath again, even though he fears there’s more where that came from. Another time, maybe. “You’re too good to me, boss.”

"No," Len whispers. "No, other way around. You're so good for me, Mick." 

As Mick’s tears subside, Len clearly snaps back into boss mode, listing items like he’s reading them off a plan he wrote earlier. The asshole probably is. "Do you want me to bring you some chocolate? And more lotion, I think - if your ass needed soothed last time, this time's worse."

Mick laughs against him. Len remembered. “Yeah. Yeah, chocolate sounds good.” But as Len moves to get up, Mick involuntarily tugs him back, hiding his face in the crook of his neck again. “In... in a minute.”

"Okay." Len cuddles back up with him and holds him close, falling easily back into the same position they were in before. "I'm here. Don't worry, not leaving you alone before you're ready."

“Good,” Mick breathes into Len’s shoulder. Len is rocking him, holding him tight like he thinks Mick’s about to fall apart. Mick doesn’t know what’s got into either of them, but it’s not the worst thing in the world. 

Mick’s been on his own for a long time. It’s a strange thought, with his partner of thirty years holding him, but it’s how he’s always felt. He wonders how long he’s wanted this kind of closeness with Len. He knows Len cares about him, but feeling it like this is something else - something new.

“Okay,” he murmurs at last, still appreciating the rocking and the firm pressure of Len’s arms around him, but feeling a blood sugar dip coming on too. “Chocolate.”

Len goes to get it, returning with two large bars of chocolate and their water bottles, his more ice than water, which makes Mick roll his eyes. "You know the drill from last time," he says fondly. "You eat your snack. I'll lotion your sore ass."

Huh. Mick’s barely given any thought to his ass, what with all the crying and cuddling, but now he wriggles and - “Fuck. Yeah, that’d be good. You really did whale on my poor butt.” He wriggles it at Len in what he hopes is a suggestive manner, just to see if he can get a laugh out of him. Break up the heavy mood a bit.

"Done worse after a heist, is what you want me to say," Len teases, slathering lotion in soothing circles on Mick’s hot, sore skin. "Don't know that I have, even the nights we went rough."

“Different kind of whaling on it.” Mick chuckles. “But if you keep giving me this kinda workout without fucking me, I’m gonna get seriously frustrated. And you must be wanting a bit of that by now too, huh?”

“What?" Len drawls, his rubbing on Mick's ass turning playfully sexy. "Me? Ask for sexual favors in return for paddling you? You wound me." He crawls up the bed, dropping down at Mick's side. "Wouldn’t say no if you’re offering. But maybe we should push it off till next time, plan it as part of the scene...or not. I'm flexible." With a playful grin, he adds, "In every way, so I'm told."

Mick snorts, turning so he’s eye to eye with Len and winking at him. “You wanna plan, go ahead and plan. I wouldn’t wanna deprive you of that.” He reaches behind him to rub his ass, grimacing a little. “But, yeah, maybe tomorrow… or the next day.”

"How bad's the pain?" Len asks, pushing himself up on his elbows. "Need me to dial back the intensity a little next time?" As if on afterthought, he adds, "Or you want me to match it with the severity of the infraction, if the paddle stays as a punishment thing?" 

Mick feels himself quirking a smile at that. “It’s okay. But yeah, I definitely wanna get punished with that thing next time.” He jostles Len’s shoulder. “You taking out your all-too-real frustrations on me… Oh yeah.” He frowns at Len. “You okay? I know I got a bit... weird, there.”

"Weird?" Len rips open the other chocolate bar and nibbles a corner. "You mean the crying, or you being a brat at the beginning of the scene? Because if I've got to earn your submission, I'll enjoy the fight and then take it out on your ass once you cooperate."

Mick makes a show of grabbing back his chocolate, but he doesn’t really mind Len stealing it. He’s known his partner long enough to know who he is. “I guess I meant the bawling,” he mutters. But since Len’s brought up the other thing... He chuckles. “I wasn’t a _brat_. You knew who you were paddling. I ain’t saying ‘thank you’ after every spank without a fight, you asshole.” He sticks his tongue out at Len. Then, in case his partner panics, he rushes to add, “Not that I didn’t like it. I did. Just so we’re clear. All of it.”

Len shrugs, stealing another piece of chocolate right out of Mick's hand. "Didn't mind the crying if you didn't mind the… cooing. Got the sense you needed it." 

Mick feels himself freeze a bit. He doesn’t know why that’s uncomfortable, but he’s not sure if he’s ready to talk about needing cuddled and coddled. 

After a minute’s silence, Len adds with a grin, "Maybe next time you can get back at me for making you thank me for every spank. 'Cause you and I both know you wouldn't mind taking out some frustrations of your own on my ass."

Mick laughs. “I ain’t gonna say no to that offer.” He turns on his side, careful not to rub his butt against the sheets, and waggles his eyebrows at Len. “What would you be into, boss? My hand? The flogger?”

"The flogger," Len says instantly, and Mick grins to see how much Len is into that idea. "Bet it stings, and, um... “ Len fiddles with an edge of the blanket. “I could handle that, I think."

Mick feels his grin get wider, leaning in closer towards his partner. “Yeah? You’d like that?” He reaches around, running his hand over the shape of Len’s ass through his jeans. “I got a lot of frustrations I could take out on this gorgeous, pert little ass.” And, only because his eyes flicker up to meet Len’s again, he leans in a little closer and risks a kiss. 

Len stiffens for just a second, then softens into the kiss, making a sweet little noise against Mick's mouth. It’s been a long time since they’ve done this when they’re not fucking, and then it’s hotter and pushier than this. For them, this is gentle. It’s nice.

"Bet you do," Len says when they break apart. He sounds a little breathless, so he must have liked the soft kiss. Worth remembering, Mick thinks.

He gets up to use the bathroom, and when he comes back, Len is in PJs and clearly on the edge of sleep. So Mick takes one more risk, sliding in next to him and wrapping his arms around him. He hasn’t forgotten how comforting it was to fall asleep in Len’s arms yesterday, and he’s still a little shook up after the crying. Sue him if he wants the same thing again now. Len can complain tomorrow. 

"Hey." Len sounds hazy with sleep, snuggling him back. "Could get used to this," he mumbles, eyes drifting shut. 

Mick feels a warm chuckle bubbling up inside him. He could get used to it too.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has smut after the kink - if that's something you'd rather avoid, the smut starts at "He slows down, the application of cream..." and ends at "and then just curls into Mick’s arms."

Now that Mick's put the idea of the flogger in his head, there's a part of Len that won't settle down until they try it. He doesn't last long, partly because he knows his impatience is already driving Mick up the wall. And hey, fair's fair - if Mick decided to be a brat about the paddle, Len can push him a little bit to get flogged, too. 

"Mick. _Mick_." After what he feels is too long, he drapes himself right into Mick's lap. He knows Mick will associate this with sex, which, to be fair, Len has encouraged - good. Might as well get him hot for it. "I'm bored."

Len jumping into his lap snaps Mick into... a whole other mode. He looks at Len for a long moment from under scrunched eyebrows, and Len gets the sense that he’s just started something he’s either going to love or regret. "Excuse me," he says, in a low, firm voice. "You just jump into someone's lap without asking, do ya?"

He can count on one hand the number of times he's heard Mick sound like this before, and never in this situation. That voice goes to all kinds of places - deep in Len's gut, where it coils hot and eager, and to his head, making him the same kind of dizzy he'd felt in the shop when he first saw the flogger. Oh, this is going to be easier than he expected. But he's got a part to play, so with all the attitude he can muster, he shoots back, "I do when that someone's being boring."

Very, very slowly, Mick reaches for the flogger. He turns it in his hand like he’s taking a special kind of pleasure from teasing Len with anticipation. "You got a thousand ways to entertain yourself, Lenny. What do you want me to do about it?"

Oh, the fucker’s gonna make Len beg for it. Len is going to make him earn every word. “Well, I don’t know, do I?” he demands. “You’re the one who’s sitting here all wrapped up in your own little world.”

Mick raises an eyebrow. Len can’t tell if it’s a challenge or a promise. Then, in one smooth motion, he slides out from under Len and flips him so he's face-down on the mattress. Len has always known Mick is stronger than he is - it's come up enough both in and out of the bedroom that he can't really avoid it. He never knew it could make him melt into the mattress like this. Being flipped around so easily makes his whole body go loose and limp and easy for Mick to tug around. 

“Color?” Mick demands, his hands on Len’s pants. He’s still using that commanding tone that’s doing all kinds of nice things to Len. He’s not sure if he wants Mick to get on with it or keep drawing it out like this.

"Green," he manages, and thank fuck his voice comes out steady. "You gonna spank me, _Sir_?" It comes out all kinds of snarky, and he hopes that disguises the note of genuine need underlying the title.

That gets Mick moving. He shoves Len's pants and underwear down and smacks his butt hard. "Get up." he growls. "You're going over the side of the bed."

Len jolts at the spank, not in alarm but in surprise. Mick hit hard - it's less of a sting than a deep, strong ache, and it's all he can do not to moan at the feeling. Fuck, he wants more of that. 

"Gonna make me?" he asks to disguise the fact that he's not entirely sure he'll be able to stay standing for the entirety of his flogging (or right now, for that matter). Then, because it seemed to get Mick going before, he drops his voice into his most obnoxious drawl and adds, "Sir?"

Mick stands up and pulls away completely, leaving Len cold and exposed and faintly humiliated with his bare ass hanging out. Len almost whines. He wanted Mick to yank him around, not leave him like this. "Hands on the bed." 

So Mick's going to try to wait him out until he obeys. Usually, Len would laugh at the attempt. They're about as stubborn as each other, but Mick doesn't have as much patience - usually. Right now, Len wants a flogging, and Mick must know he’ll do anything to get it. So, with a bitter, "Yes Sir," he crawls to the edge of the bed, pushes himself upright, strips off his shirt, and bends over to present himself for Mick's inspection. 

He'd underestimated how vulnerable this would feel. He's been naked for Mick before plenty of times, but never like this - never where he didn't have an ounce of control over how and how long Mick looked at him. He's not sure he likes it, but at the same time, being this helpless is just making that dizzy weird feeling in his head stronger. He’s not going to let Mick know that, though. "Are you gonna get on with it?"

He can’t really see Mick from this angle. His first clue that something is happening is a rumbled, "Tell me the safewords again." 

Safewords...right, the safewords. Len hadn't realized he'd started thinking of them as more of a calming pre-scene script than something he could actually use. "Green for I'm fine and you can go on. Yellow to slow down, either for a break or you to change something. Red's full stop, the scene ends."

When he looks back, he can see Mick holding the flogger, moving it experimentally to gauge the feel of it in his hand. Has he practiced? He’s not sure he cares either way - as long as Mick is careful going in, Len will keep track of whether he can keep taking whatever Mick gives him. Impatiently, he snaps, "Green, Sir. Get on with it."

" _Enough_ ," Mick growls. He punctuates it with another slap of his hand, this time against Len's thigh. It stings beautifully, but it’s nowhere near enough. "We're doing this safely or not at all. Goading me on won't get you what you want any faster, Lenny." Len hears him take a step back and a breath. The bratty act must really be working him up; that’s good to know for the future. "Thank you for the safewords. You'd better use them if you need to," he orders firmly. "Now. You're gonna count." 

“Y-yessir," he murmurs, and oh, when did his voice get all quivery like that? He can be a good boy...maybe. "Yessir, I can count." He clutches the sheets more tightly in his hands to anchor himself. He's at the risk of going into his head already and they haven't even started. Impatience will do that, he reminds himself - half of why he's this wobbly and eager so quick is down to sheer impatience. But he's not about to stop the scene for that. Hopefully he balances out once Mick actually starts hitting him.

"Good," Mick breathes, running his hand gently over Len's spanked thigh. His touch lessens the sting a little bit. "We're gonna build up slowly, so you can take it a little more each time." Then he flicks the tips of the flogger against Len’s ass. The noise registers first, then a quick, sharp, shallow burst of pain that steals Len's breath and makes him hiss. The sting lingers, but the worst of the pain fades into a hot, tingling feeling that he wants more of _now_. 

"One, Sir," he says, and almost thanks Mick for it. No, that's too far. He might be half-hazy and so damn desperate to be Mick's good boy, but he doesn't have to thank him just yet.

Mick doesn’t respond to that, just keeps hitting him. There’s a rhythm to it. Len almost wishes there wasn’t; it’s easy to let it push him deeper into the floaty-weird headspace building with every hit. It never crosses his mind to wonder how many hits he's getting. Sir - Mick, Mick his partner, Mick who's so completely in charge right now - will stop when he wants to, when he thinks Len has been appropriately punished. And it's not like Len's going to complain. The pain from the flogger is warm and diffuse, stinging-sharp and throbbing-deep by turns, and he thinks he could take as much as Mick sees fit to give him. 

He's still counting, the numbers automatic and calming, but he's only half-aware of what they are. Four - not enough. Eight, and the pain has turned into a deep warm ache that's growing with every new hit. Ten, and he's only counting by rote, too lost in enjoying the little jolts of heat from the new hits. He can't even tell if he's turned on or just floating, and he's not sure he cares.

As lost as he is in the pain and the counting, he doesn’t notice exactly when Mick starts talking. The cadence of his words blends with the rhythm of the hits, taking Len that much further into his own head. "You're such a good boy, Lenny. Such a good boy," he reinforces again, his voice almost cooing. "Color, baby?"

Mick thinks he's good. Len doesn't know what to do with this information, so overloaded with feeling that he doesn't have the space to process emotions on top of it. "Green, Sir," he murmurs with a little hitch in his voice. His eyes sting. He barely notices, too lost in the sting of his flogged ass. "I-I'm good?"

"Ten more," Mick says. He doesn’t call Len good again, and Len wonders if he did something wrong by asking for more praise. "Keep counting, baby."

Baby. Mick called him baby. Mick uses more pet names than Len ever will - Len has his suspicions why, none of them relevant - but Len has never felt as overwhelmed by it as he does now. He wants to be flogged more. He wants to curl up in Mick's arms and not move. He needs to give Mick the sex he promised, can't forget about that, that was the plan and he never goes back on his plans... 

And, he notices idly, he's still crying. It feels good.

"Number," Mick coaxes, seemingly out of nowhere. Did Len not say it yet? He really is getting wrapped up in his head...

"Eleven." Len's voice is steady despite his tears. He doesn't know why he's crying - it's not the pain, he's taken worse without crying. It's something to do with the way he's lost in it, with the way Mick's cooing at him, with the vulnerable feeling of being bent over and helpless and loving it. "Green," he adds, out of some vague feeling that he should. "Green, Sir. Feels so good."

The next hit is just a blip, sharper pain that fades directly into that lovely warm ache. Len makes a little sound and rocks back, begging without words for a harder hit. He doesn't need it to hurt in its own right, but he'd do anything for the kind of hit that will deepen that throbbing warm pain.

" _Number_ ," Mick snaps. Did Len forget again?

"Twelve." Len registers Mick's tone but doesn't know what to do with it. Is Mick angry? Is he doing something wrong? Or is that just a continuation of his forceful tone from earlier, the one that had made Len melt so quickly and easily into being flogged? "Green, Sir."

That must be the right thing to say, because Mick starts up the stream of praise that he abandoned...oh, several hits ago. "Good. You're so good, baby. Look at you, counting when I ask you to, and taking everything I give you. God, you're incredible. I--" He stops for a moment, then keeps going with, "You're so good. Eight more, baby. Keep counting each one for me."

Good. Len is good. Mick thinks he's good, and he's calling him 'baby' again, and Len loves him so much. He doesn't have the words left to say it and has the vague sense this is a good thing. "Green, Sir," he says, because it's the one thing that still makes sense. He could take so much more. He could take whatever Mick wants to give him, eight or a dozen or more, and thank him. Thank him! He hasn't done that yet. He thought about it earlier and he hasn't done it. "Thank you, Sir."

Mick makes a soft sound at that and gives him two firm hits in succession, across Len's thighs. He has to count those, he remembers. "Thirteen. Fourteen." He might still be crying - he doesn't even know, too lost in his head to do anything other than ride it out and beg for more. He wants Mick to be proud of him. There's not much to be proud of, but he wants Mick to be proud of even that little bit. "Green, Sir, thank you, Sir."

Mick runs his hand over Len's ass and thighs. It burns, but it’s just more sensation adding to the wonderful, pervading ache. "Shh, baby," he says, petting Len's thighs, his ass, rubbing up his back. "Shh. It's okay. You're so good. Two more and we're done."

Len arches back into his touch. Two more. That doesn’t sound right. But it's Mick's call and Len is glad to know. "Yessir."

“Count, baby,” Mick reminds him. Len wants to, but he can’t remember where they left off. His number brain got stuck on 'two' and he can't quite get back to where he was before. But he wants to be Mick's good boy, he wants to earn the last two strikes, so he tries, 

"One, thank you, Sir."

Mick’s voice sounds odd. Was that the wrong number? “So good for me, baby,” he whispers and lands a hard final stroke on the place where Len’s thighs meet his ass.

Len's brain does too many things at once - new spank, being good, Mick's voice doing a thing - and what comes out of his mouth isn't intelligible as a number. He wants to turn around and hold Mick and be held, but he can’t. He doesn't have permission to move. He settles for whispering, "Thank you, Sir," with as much adoration as he can infuse into three simple words. Then he’s in Mick’s arms, held tight, and that’s all that matters.

“Hey, hey baby.” Mick is cooing at him. He must have been so good to earn that kind of tone. “You did so good, Lenny. God, I’m so proud of you.” Len tucks himself into Mick's arms and lets Mick rock them. Stimmy. His stimmy partner. Good, both of them, so good, his good inexperienced frightened Dom. He has no idea how much he's saying, if anything, but he wraps his arms tight around Mick's shoulders and rocks with him, trying to convey how happy he is with Mick taking charge. “You’re perfect, Lenny. You’re everything I could want. I don’t ever wanna do this without you.”

"Mine." Is this how Mick feels all the time, Len wonders, grasping for words he knows he won't mix up? Right now he's not sure what will come out of his mouth in the right shape and what will turn into incoherent happy sounds. He's trying to pick through and find a way to thank Mick for what happened, and it's harder than he thought. "My Mick. Green, green. Not going to leave."

“Yeah,” Mick murmurs, his voice steady even though Len can feel the stuttering rise and fall of his chest. He presses a lingering kiss to the top of Len’s head. Oh, that’s perfect. “Mine too, Lenny. Mine too.”

Len drops a clumsy hand between Mick's legs. He made promises, climbed on him with the hope of getting him hot for it, and he owes him that. He can't be Mick's if he disappoints him too often. "Mine?" he asks clumsily, having no idea if Mick will understand what he's saying - that this, Mick's pleasure, is his too.

Mick makes a disapproving sound, gently pulling his hand away. "Not till you know what you're doing, Lenny." He kisses his head again and checks, "Can I go get you something to eat?" 

"No." Len clings. Apparently sex is off the table, but that doesn't mean he has to let go just yet. He's not hungry - he just wants Mick. "Mine."

"Lenny.” Mick sounds so sweet, so coaxing. Len has rarely heard him sound this way before. "You need to eat." 

"I need _you_." Okay. Okay, words do work. Maybe. Kind of. Len stays cuddled against Mick's chest, hears the little hitch of breath and feels the shaking that suggest his partner isn't okay. Oh no. Oh, he did this, he shouldn't have let go so quickly, he should have kept closer tabs on Mick. What can he say now to make it right? "My good Dom," he tries. "I want you because you're good for me."

Mick lets out a hastily-stifled sob. Oh, Len is _hurting him_. "You're good for me too," he whispers. Is he? If he’s making his Dom cry, is he? But Mick’s running a hand so gently over his head, and maybe he’s okay. "Lenny... I need you too."

"I love you." It wouldn't have come out if Len was any more with it, but he supposes that's a good thing. It's what Mick needs, more than cuddles, more than anything else Len can offer. He needs to know how much Len loves him. "My Mick."

Mick freezes, and for another dreadful moment, Len thinks he’s ruined everything. Then Mick’s kissing him, and it’s tear-slick and messy and brimming with so many feelings they’ve never shared. "I love you, too," he says, as though the words burn. "I... I need to get you food and drink."

"I wanna come." It comes out sounding petulant, but Len can't leave him right now, even for a few minutes. They've just said something they've only ever left implied, and Len needs time to process that with a brain that's lagging way too far behind. "I don't want to be alone."

Mick tilts Len's head back. Does he want another kiss? But no, he just looks, and then he reaches for Len’s bathrobe on its designated chair. "C'mon then," he murmurs, and helps Len up so very gently, holding up the robe for him to step into.

Len burrows into the robe. As soon as he's wrapped up tight, he drapes himself over Mick again. Mick chuckles at him, shifts his arm, and half-carries him into the kitchen. Oh, Len is spoiled by this, by his sweet strong partner who can just carry him when he pleases...

"What do you wanna eat?" Mick checks, throwing the cupboard door open wide so Len can choose from an array of snacks. He’s so sweet, always letting Len see his options.

He wants something sweet, but he doesn’t want Mick in the stash of good chocolate. "...Cherries?" 

Because Mick truly does spoil him, he gets Len the requested cherries and makes them both steaming mugs of hot chocolate. When they get back to the bedroom, Mick sets their mugs on their respective bedside tables and grabs a couple of cherries for himself. "We, uh." He takes a deep breath. "We gonna talk about what we said there?" 

"I do." _Love you_ , Len finds himself unable to say aloud. He's a master of talking around what they both know but can't admit, so he puts all those skills to use in between greedy mouthfuls of hot chocolate. "I have for a long time. We just...don't talk about that. Feelings and shit, you'd probably say. So I haven't said anything until I..." He laughs. "I guess I was too out of it to remind myself not to."

"Yeah," Mick says. "Me too." He gives Len a pointed glance. Len isn’t entirely sure why it’s pointed, but he shrinks guiltily into the pillows anyway. "We can't keep doing this if we can't talk. I think I figured that much out... Oh!" He jumps up, grabbing the lotion from where Len left it the night before, on the bedside table. "Turn over. You gotta be hurting."

Once Mick gets to work ever-so-carefully rubbing aloe into his ass, Len just about melts into the bed. So maybe he has a thing about Mick's hands, which, to be fair, are strong and capable and...Yep, definitely a thing. "Perfect," he murmurs, knowing Mick will want to hear it as well as see him melt into the bed. "So good."

Mick laughs, soft and fond. When he speaks, though, his voice is low, hesitant - jealous, almost. “How does it feel?” he asks quietly. “The floating thing, I mean. I... don’t think I got there, the two times you spanked me. Not really- not like you did.”

"It feels like..." Len is having a distinctly harder time thinking of words when Mick is clearly having such fun fondling his ass. "It's about letting go, I think," he admits. "I was so eager to let go and give in for you, and then the pain just built and built until it was...I dunno. It turned so much nicer, and I just trusted you to give me however much of that good feeling that you thought I deserved."

“Huh.” Mick doesn’t sound upset, just thoughtful. “Guess I... need to work on that,” he admits. He slows down, the application of cream turning into a gentle massage of Len’s ass. “Mmm... this is nice.”

Len shoots a playful look over his shoulder. "Well, I do recall making promises about giving you some release after leaving you frustrated for _days_." He pitches his tone to its most melodramatic, as though going days without an orgasm is a previously unheard-of level of torture. In reality, they've sometimes gone without for months, for any combination of reasons.

Mick makes a noncommittal sound and slows down the touch of his fingers along Len’s ass. He shifts his hands a bit, thumbs at Len’s hips now. That’s promising. “Only if you want to.”

“So the theme of today really is making me beg.” Len pushes his hips up, presenting himself to Mick. If he’s supposed to beg, he might as well do it right. “ _Please_ , Mick, I want you to fuck me until we’re both sore. Make me feel even better, please.”

“Think you’re already sore,” Mick chuckles, but he’s not moving away. “You want it? You prep. All that work of flogging you, I kinda wanna watch for a bit.” He pulls the lube out of a drawer, hands it over, and settles back on the pillows to watch.

So that's how he wants to play it. Fine, Len can put on a show. When he actually gets around to doing this, he likes a bit of a tease. He slicks his fingers, reaches back, and dips just the tip of his finger inside. Fuck, it's been awhile. He works through it, fingering himself nice and slow until the flickers of _too weird_ fade away and he's left making pleasured noises at the stretch. 

Mick watches hungrily, his hand drifting multiple times to his cock. He always stops shy of touching himself. “Come on, Lenny,” he whines after Len spreads his legs and keens. “I know you can be good for me. Gonna let me in?”

"Well, come on, then." Now that Mick has asked, Len is aware of how strung out and impatient he's made himself. He arches his back and holds himself open, enjoying the way his own hands send little flickers of pain up his spine. "I want you in me, now."

Mick tilts his head. “Not gonna say no to that.” He shifts down the bed and runs his hands over Len’s tender ass. “Damn,” he murmurs, sounding so pleased with his work. “I did good here.” 

"You did," Len agrees, groaning at the touch. He's wound up enough that pain is just another sensation, getting him more worked up the more Mick handles his sore ass. He lets out a stuttering moan when Mick pushes into him. _Fuck_ , he took his time but Mick still stretches him in the best possible way. "Yours," he mumbles, pushing slowly back as Mick pushes in. "All yours."

“Yeah, Lenny. You’re all mine.” Mick makes little needy noises as he thrusts. No wonder, Len thinks impatiently - he’s going slowly, savoring what he could be claiming. This whole slow thing is new. He's used to quick, sloppy blowjobs after a heist, used to climbing into Mick's lap and grinding on him hot and eager through their clothes - he's not used to this kind of slow, tender fucking. _Lovemaking._ Call it what it is - they confessed to each other not that long ago, and now Mick's trying for slow and tender? He's making love to Len, and all Len can do is moan and squirm and take it as the pleasure builds low in his gut. This is a whole new loss of control that he’s not sure he can withstand without breaking down.

“Shh.” Mick must be able to feel Len’s confusion, because he starts cooing at him as he thrusts. “I got you, Lenny. It’s okay.” He leans down to reach around for Len’s cock. “Lemme take care of you too.”

Len bites his lip against a noise that would have humiliated him. "Good - good - Mick, _fuck_ , I wanna be so good for you."

“God, Lenny,” Mick murmurs, stroking Len’s cock in time with his thrusts into him. “You got no idea how good you are for me. All of that, today? You were incredible. Better’n watching you run a heist. ‘Cause it was all for me.” He speeds up his thrusts, the volume of his grunts rising. “Love everything you do, baby,” he pants. “You’re incredible.”

Mick doesn't run his mouth like this...well, pretty much ever, but not during sex, not like this. Like the slower pace, Len doesn't know what to do with it except turn it back. "You're so good to me," he murmurs, rather than address what Mick has said. The words are punched out of him, breathy and needy, in time to Mick's thrusts. "My Mick, the best partner I could have hoped for. And sure you lose yourself sometimes, and I know I let you down, but we're this. We're here, broken open together, perfect." It's a plea and a promise. "Perfectly broken."

It must be the right thing to say, because Mick’s pace kicks up and he starts making the prettiest noises, little grunts that sound a bit watery around the edges. Moments later, he comes with a shout that could be a sob. Len keens in response and hitches his hips into Mick's hand, seeking his own climax. 

He comes with a groan, making a mess of the sheets, and then just curls into Mick’s arms. Mick lets him cuddle, but the arms he wraps around Len’s shoulders shake. Len sits up a bit and checks in. "Too much?" Of course it’s too much, he reminds himself. Sex is a lot for Mick anyway, and then add in the cuddling... "You can have the shower first," he says, because damned if he's gonna keep demanding something Mick can't stand.

“Hey,” Mick murmurs, and oh, he sounds odd. “Don’t do that. I just...You can’t expect me to know how to do this right away.” He leans in to kiss Len’s head once more. “I’m shit at this, Len. And you’re... _you_.” Len isn’t sure whether to bristle or wince. He knows he’s _him_. That’s why he’s doing his best to focus on Mick right now. “I mean you’re incredible,” Mick clarifies. 

"I'm also shit at this," Len corrects with a wry grin. "No, it's... I want cuddles - you need space, don't you? Not compatible, and to be fair to you, I can't imagine the mess is great stim. Go shower, take your space. The cuddles can wait." And it's not like he didn't get cuddles earlier, he reminds himself. Mick took such good care of him; it's his turn to do the looking after.

“No, no...” Mick closes his eyes again. “That ain’t what I need, Lenny. Please.” He grabs Len’s hand. That’s unexpected. They’re not big on hand-holding, either. “Come shower with me.”

That Len can do. "I'd like that," he says, reaching up and running his hand over Mick's rough, lovely face. "Come on."

It's only when he stands up that he realizes he never properly took the robe off, only hiked it up to expose his ass. For some reason, this is enough to send him into exhausted laughter. "Well that was sexy of us," he laughs, patting the robe back into place and keeping it on until they reach the bathroom.

He pretends not to see the way Mick’s eyes go fond before he presses their foreheads together and settles his hands on Len’s waist. Len thinks he could stay like that forever, being held amidst a surprisingly cool shower spray.

“So.” Mick’s sudden amusement catches Len a bit off-guard, but he’s still riding the giggly aftershocks from the bathrobe thing. He can’t exactly call him out on it. “Regretting starting this kink shit yet?”

"You mean now that we've cried more in three days than the last couple of decades?" Len grins in return. "Nah. We must have just needed to get that out. I think there's less crying the further in you go."

Mick guffaws. “Starting to doubt that, but we’ll see.” The look he gives Len is all kinds of soft. “Can I— You want me to wash you?”

Len wonders at how old he’s gotten, that this suggestion doesn't make him want round two. Instead, he just feels a sort of low-burning contentedness at the idea of giving himself one more time into his partner's capable hands. "Yeah," he murmurs. "I'd like that."

Mick washes him all slow and gentle. It’s the kind of intimacy they don’t let themselves have very often, and not the kind Len would allow anyone else. Mick is the only person who gets to touch him this way, all over his old, scarred body. 

"So." He isn't sure how much they should talk when he's still vaguely off-balance from the scene, but if they don't start now, they may never work up the nerve. "We probably ought to talk about what happened to you, too. I know you asked about how floaty I got, and that was good, but...I don't think you got into as good a headspace, did you?"

Mick snorts. "I'm not so sure if 'good' is the whole way to say it.” It takes him a moment to add, “I'm a bit of a fuck up, ain't I?" 

Len turns around, heedless of the fact that he's disrupting Mick's attempt to wash him, and pulls Mick into a wet embrace. "You're not a fuckup," he murmurs. "You're new to this. We both are. And you're not less important to the scene just because you're in the dominant role." He knows as he says it that Mick will turn it around on him at some point - probably soon - but it has to be said.

Mick chuckles against him. "So dominant I need you to look after me?"

“That’s not it.” He kisses Mick’s brow and considers how to word it. “In the scene, you’re in charge, but you’re still you and you’re still allowed to need help.”

“Still me’s the problem,” Mick grumbles, but he lets himself be kissed. “Dunno if I can trust myself to... feel shit. Get angry. And not hurt you.”

"Then I won't goad you like that again." It's an easy enough compromise to make. Acting up for Mick was hot, and Len would like to do it again, but Mick's comfort comes before his pleasure. "If you punish me again, it's okay for it to be something we agree on in advance - something where your focus can be on me earning forgiveness, not on taking your anger out on my ass.”

Mick scoffs. “Stop it, Lenny. I said. Ain’t you that’s the problem. I want you to do whatever you want. Be a brat if you wanna. And I liked it, you being bratty and goading like that...” 

"I'm not trying to make myself the problem," Len corrects gently. He rubs his hand over Mick's broad, scarred back. "But what's going on in your head doesn't happen in a vacuum. And remember, you can also decide you'd rather be the spankee. I don't mind turning your ass bright red and taking you out of your head along the way."

Mick grins. “Yeah. That’s good, me being on the receiving end... I wanna go as deep as you do.” He licks his lips. He’s eager, Len realizes, not just doing this for Len’s sake. In that case, they’ll have to find a way to get him there. “I wanna try it all. The more we do this shit, the more we can work out what works. For both of us.”

Len can get behind that, although trying it all is a daunting task even if they establish some better limits. "We'll get you there eventually," he promises, "even if it takes some time to get you comfortable with letting go for me. And if it takes a different implement, or a different scene..." He shrugs. "Like you said, we've got some time. Might as well try it all."

It must be the right thing to say, because Mick wraps his arms tight around him again and murmurs, “I love you.”

Len leans into the embrace and makes a low, contented hum. He's not entirely sure he can say it in turn (silly, given that he started it) but he squeezes Mick reassuringly tight. "My partner," he murmurs, hoping his tone conveys all the things he can't bring himself to say.

Mick chuckles under his breath. “Come on. Water’s gonna get cold.”

Obediently, Len follows him out of the shower. If they spend the rest of the day cuddled up - well, they're the only ones around to know.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning: Mick thinks briefly about his self-harming tendencies, towards the end of the chapter. If you want to skip it, details of which paragraph to skip are at the end.

Not the next day (Len figures Mick needs a break), but the day after that, Mick's being impatient and antsy in a way that's starting to drive Len out of his mind. Finally, only half-seriously, he snaps, "Do I need to tie you up to stop that infernal pacing?"

Mick spins on his heel, face contorted in anger. “What, you want me to get out of your way and go light a fire?”

Len can't tell if it's a genuine suggestion or Mick pushing to see what he'll do. He figures, given the way this last week has gone, it's probably the latter. "That does it," he snarls, hooking a hand in the collar of Mick's shirt and tugging him into the bedroom. Mick can keep up or not - he's getting dragged along either way. "On your knees, now, while I get out the rope."

Mick’s eyes get a little glazed in a way that Len refuses to think is cute, and he mumbles a shockingly agreeable “Yes, boss.”

Mick gives in to being tugged around so quickly and so beautifully - Len wants to praise him for it, but that's not the game they're playing right now. When they reach the bedroom, Len lets him go to bring out the rope. It's soft cotton, but even then, he can't place if it'll be good on Mick's skin right now. He turns around, trying to hide how little he knows by sneering and demanding, "And what exactly do you think you deserve for all this impatience? Being made to strip and tied up tight? Or do you think you've earned the right to keep your clothes on?"

Mick’s quiet a moment, apparently considering. “Clothes on,” he mutters eventually.

"You think you've been a good enough boy for that?" Len has to keep the character he's found, but that doesn't mean mocking Mick too much. "Very well. How to tie you up?" He walks a circle around him, pondering. It would break character to go for his bondage for beginners book, but he'll need to eventually. "I could tie your arms behind you and tie your wrists to your ankles so you'd be completely helpless, but that seems like a bit much even for such a naughty boy."

Mick’s mouth opens like he has something to say, but he doesn’t speak, just sinks to his knees. Mick is willingly kneeling for him, and fuck, that goes to Len's head. His proud, stubborn partner, kneeling and asking to be tied up. “Up to you, boss,” he murmurs.

"Good boy," Len praises, going quickly for the book and flipping to one of the pages marked with a red tab - semi-restrictive, possible with clothes on. He bends down and shows it to Mick so he knows what they're getting into: rope crisscrossed over his chest and back, upper arms tied at his sides and wrists bound together behind his back. "Yes or no?"

Mick stares up at the picture a little blankly. Len’s about to prompt him again when he says, “Yes.”

"Good boy," Len coos again, propping the book open and going to work. The first loop of rope starts around Mick's chest, level with his armpits - nothing close to the neck so there's no risk of choking. Len's seen a few designs that take advantage of a ring on a collar, but they don't have one of those yet (he's not sure Mick would wear one if they did). Once he gets the pattern of it - around the chest, around the arms, over the back, cross and go back the other way - tying him up is meditative in itself. "Look at you," he praises as he works. "You're a vision."

Mick’s eyes have drifted closed. He looks so peaceful, and when he speaks, his voice is quiet, drifty. He’s stunning like this. “Good.”

"Yes, you are." Len ties the rope off at Mick's wrists and stands back to admire his handiwork. It's a little lumpy, as only a first-timer's tying can be, but he's checked it with his fingers and determined it's loose enough, and the knots will be easy to undo if Mick panics. "How do you feel?"

Mick pulls at the rope, clearly testing it rather than fighting to get out. “Green, boss.” He pulls some more, and Len gets to watch him melt into the restraints. “How’d I get out if I need to?”

Len presses the end of the rope into Mick's palm where he can feel it. "If you tug this, it will undo the knot at your wrists. The rest of it is too intricate for you to get out of it just by pulling, but you'll have your hands free and I'll undo the rest. If, for whatever reason, you panic and need out immediately..." Len holds up a pair of red-handled rope shears. "You're worth more to me than a few meters of rope."

That last comment gets a harsh breath out of Mick. Does he really not know how valued he is? “Yes, boss.”

Len pulls over a chair, grabs the book, and sits down at Mick's side. He's not going to leave his partner alone while tied up and helpless, both out of worry that it will become too much for him and out of eagerness to watch how he reacts. Surreptitiously, he takes note of the time. He'll keep checking in and keep an ear out for their safewords, but he can't let the scene go too long - Mick will get achy.

After the first minute or two, Len reaches out and runs a hand over Mick's head. He can see his partner starting to relax, see the way he sinks into the ropes, see the peaceful, faintly hazy expression settling over his face. It's beautiful to watch, and Len can't bear to pretend otherwise. "You look so good for me right now, all tied up in my rope, so relaxed for me. I'd keep you here all the time if it were possible. Keep you tied up at my feet, anchored in your body and drifting deep in your own head."

He gets to see the moment Mick drifts away completely: his shoulders slump and he sinks into the ropes like he's always wanted to be there. And maybe he has, Len muses. Maybe he's wanted this loss of control for a long time and not known how to get it. And hey, if giving this to him means dealing with the feelings they've pushed aside for so long...if it means crying and cuddling and sweet aftercare...Len's not going to complain.

"Give me a color, my good boy," he coaxes after some time. "Tell me if you're okay to keep going."

Mick’s eyes snap open. He looks _frightened_ at the thought of losing whatever peace he’s found. “Green, boss. _Please_ , boss.”

"Shh, shh." Len rubs a hand over Mick's head, scratches his nails lightly over the nape of his neck. "I'm not going to take this away from you, good boy. This is for you, and if you're comfortable, we can stay." He rubs his hands along Mick's shoulders, down to trace the topmost loop of rope. That color looks so good against Mick's shirt. It would look even better against his skin, but that can wait for another day. "You're being so good for me."

Mick lets out a warm, happy sound and leans into Len’s hand, eyes drifting closed again. "My good boy," Len coos, still rubbing Mick's head with one hand. With the other, he turns a page in the book, re-evaluating his assessment of certain patterns now that he's done a proper tie. Some of the ones he'd thought wouldn't work over clothes could, if a bit modified. "Take as long as you need."

Mick drifts for a long time. Len’s starting to settle into it too, the peace and strange, pervading feeling of intimacy, when something changes. Mick shifts, and it doesn’t seem good. “Boss,” he says urgently. “Boss...”

"Okay." That's not a safeword, but it gets the message across amply well. Len resists the urge to leap out of his seat; that's not what Mick needs. Instead, he gets swiftly to his feet, steps around behind Mick's back, and tugs the end of the rope to pull the knot apart. "Do you want me to untie it the rest of the way or cut it away?" he asks, his voice firm in the way he usually uses to ground Mick. He hopes it's the right call now.

“No,” Mick says. His voice sounds a little more even, just from this. “Yellow. Not red.”

"Okay. Good boy, thank you for telling me." Len works swiftly to pull the ropes away, but if it's a choice between tugging a bit hard to save time or sparing Mick discomfort, he slows down. "You're my good boy for letting me know we needed to be done," he coos as he works. No sense sending Mick into a spiral over an inevitable part of the scene. "I was watching for when you got uncomfortable, my good boy, but sometimes it's hard to tell. You're very good for telling me."

Mick doesn’t answer. Len gets a weird feeling about that. He pulls the last of the rope away and orders, "Straighten your arms. Slowly, they'll be stiff, but I need you to tell me if anything hurts to move. Then I'll have you stand up, understand? Your legs might be stiff or clumsy, but I'll be right here."

“Yes, boss,” Mick murmurs. He straightens his arms obediently and checks in just as Len asked. “Good.”

"Good." Len folds the rope a couple of times and sets it on the chair he just vacated. He stands up, then holds his hands out to Mick. "Lean on me as much as you need to, but come on. Stand up."

Mick creaks to his feet, Len all but lifting him. “Nothing hurts, boss.”

"Good." Len wraps his arm firmly around Mick's waist. He debates taking him to the couch - it's a longer walk, and Mick's legs could probably do with stretched - but it will be easier to cuddle in bed, and Mick can stretch out as much as he wants. "Come here. Let's get you in bed."

They curl in bed together. Now that the scene is over, Len feels weirdly tired, but Mick still needs him. He cuddles Mick close, kisses the top of his head, and tries to figure out what went wrong. "I should have given you a pillow to kneel on," he realizes. "That would have kept you going longer, wouldn't it?"

Mick shushes him. “Nothing was wrong. Don’t you go all self-blamey on me. I just started feeling creaky and old. ‘S normal.” He kisses Len back, softly, on his cheek. “You sleepy? What do you need? Chocolate?”

"Not self-blaming," Len assures him. "There's a difference between planning for the next scene and apportioning blame for what went wrong with the current one, and I do want to plan - if you want to kneel again for me, I want to make sure you're comfortable. We rushed into this scene a bit, so it was a learning experience."

Mick laughs against him. That’s good. Len’s heart warms. Then, for some reason, he keeps pushing, “You don’t want nothing? Feels like you need looking after this time, not the other way round.”

"Just got focused on you." Len burrows his head into Mick's chest, listening to the strong, steady thud of his heartbeat. "We should probably both have some water, and then..." With a guilty grin, he adds, "You can make dinner, since I'm a culinary disaster?"

Mick tightens his arms around him. “Water coming right up, and dinner right after that...if you’re ok for me to go and bring the water back? Or you can come with me...”

"Might as well come and keep you company." Len doesn't feel as clingy as he had after the last scene, and it sounds like Mick doesn't, either. He's not sure if that means they’re adjusting to the kink thing or if this was just a comparatively mild scene.

They trundle to the kitchen. While Mick cooks pasta - a good high-carb post-scene meal - Len checks in again. "You seemed to get more into your head this time than the last couple scenes. In a good way or a bad way?"

Mick chuckles like he thinks the question is cute. “So good, boss. Incredible.” He meets Len’s eyes and smiles. “Guess we found out what gets me to that floaty place fast, huh? I could do that again...” He comes over to sit at the table with Len. “Not that I wanna stop with the spankings either. Fucking love those too. But this was... it’s different.”

"You need to be still," Len deduces. That makes sense. Mick needs to take his time with things, and that means he's often asked to do too much too fast (even by Len, who ought to be aware of this by now). Len figures it's one of the reasons he likes fire - it's quick, but the watching of it is slow and peaceful, enjoyed more than analyzed. Being allowed to be still and quiet is something he urgently needs. "The spankings are fun, but I'll bear this in mind, too."

Mick nods at him. “It was peaceful.” Then, apparently out of nowhere, he checks, “Would you like that? Being tied up, made to stay still?”

"Could try it," Len agrees. The flogging was good - quick, sharp pain that had completely blotted out anything resembling worry within a few hits - but he's open to trying the ropes, especially seeing how much comfort they brought Mick. "I liked the flogging - really liked it, even with all the crying - but yeah, I'd like to try the rope with you." He leans into Mick's touch and smiles at him. He's so gone on his partner and so grateful to this kink thing for finally giving him a way to express it.

Mick grins back at him, and that’s the last they bother with the planning that night.

\---

Mick keeps thinking, for days, about the abundant praise Len heaped on him during that scene. He rolls it around in his head like he’s rolling a good beer around his mouth, testing out all the flavours of kneeling and floating and hearing that he was good. Len doesn’t just say things like that to him, and it made him feel things Mick didn’t know he could. He could definitely handle more of it.

So it’s ironic that he screws up so badly, so soon afterwards.

Len has just dragged him home from a meeting with fucking _Scudder_. Neither of them are keen on that little rat, but the boss said they needed him for a job, so Mick went where he was told. And so what if he intimidated Scudder a bit? That’s what Mick is here for. He plays the enforcer role to Len’s boss. Intimidation is in his job description… even if Len tends to forget that vital fact.

"That was out of line!" Len is snarling as they walk in through the door. "Look, I hate him too, hate his guts, but you can't just go attacking people when we need their cooperation!"

Following Len in, Mick flicks up a pissed-off hand. He was helping Len. _Protecting_ him. Ungrateful bastard. “Would you quit your fucking whining? God, I’m so sick of it.” He turns around to jab a finger in Len’s chest. “Scudder was doing what we wanted! Bit of intimidating never did anyone no harm!”

"That's not your call!" Len hisses, shifting closer to get into Mick's face. "You can't read people for crap, you and I both know that, and I know Scudder. I know what works with him. He needs to feel like he's coming to conclusions on his own, and you intimidating him doesn't exactly help with that!"

Mick snorts, turning away. “Sure,” he mutters. “You know everything, and I don’t know shit.” He folds his arms across his chest. He’s tempted to loom over Len, give him a bit of intimidation of his own, but the boss can get nasty in this mood, and Mick’s not actually keen to bring down a rain of fire on his head. “You done?”

Len runs a frustrated hand across his head. "I'm not saying you don't know anything. I'm just saying that's an area where you need to follow my lead! And that wasn't following my lead, Mick - that was an amateur hired-thug move that could have cost us our guy."

Oh, now he’s calling Mick the muscle. Patronising asshole. “Ain’t following your lead if it’s shit,” Mick mutters back.

"You think you can do any fucking better?" Len snaps back.

That’s it. Taking his cue from the fire burning in his gut, Mick gets up in Len’s face. He might feel bad about it later, but right now, he doesn’t care. “Maybe I _could_ do better. Maybe if you trusted me worth a damn I could do something that doesn’t have you calling me the muscle or… or stupid!”

The fear on Len’s face is almost satisfying - and then the asshole has Mick’s arm wrenched up his back. "Calm the fuck down," Len snarls, then draws in a deep breath. "We both need to calm the fuck down."

“What,” Mick snarls, “are you gonna do about it if I don’t?” He’s ablaze inside. He’s looked out for Len since he was nothing but a skinny fourteen-year-old punk kid with a death wish, and this is always how he repays him. Len doesn’t get to tell Mick to do shit.

For a moment, Len looks like he regrets that little bit of violence. He shoves Mick away from him, clenching his fists at his sides. "Nothing," he says, low and sullen. "I'm not gonna do anything while I'm angry."

Shaking his wrenched-up arm, Mick lets go of a caustic laugh. Leonard Snart and his fucking control issues. “Yeah,” he mutters. “You get to be not-angry. Ever.” He’s shaking. He needs... a fire, or... there’s a lighter in his... At the very least, he needs out of this room, before he hits Len. At least he can think clearly enough to know he’d regret that. “Can I go, or do you got more to say?”

Len has the strangest thoughtful look on his face. It’s not what Mick was expecting. “You could go," Len agrees. "Or I could paddle your ass 'til some of that anger simmers down."

Mick Rory is not not worth that much effort. “Even you ain’t got enough patience for that,” he says. His voice is tired, suddenly.

"Try me," Len says.

Right. Boss never could resist a challenge. Being paddled sounds better than a few of the alternatives he’s thinking about right now. “Why the fuck not? Maybe you pushing me around’ll do it.” He’s going to make Len _make_ him, though. He stands rooted on the spot, arms still folded, waiting for his boss to take charge.

Len sighs and heads towards the bedroom. Mick is still stubbornly waiting when he comes back, paddle in hand.

Then he’s pushing Mick over the table. It’s a shock. Mick was imagining the bed again - he’s probably getting too used to the soft shit. _You mean_ you’re _getting too soft,_ comes his brain’s mean little reply. He barely has a second to get used to being bent over the hard surface before Len unceremoniously drags down his pants and underwear. Mick growls in protest, but the paddle has already connected with his ass. It pushes an “Ooof” sound out of him, more surprised than anything, but the sting that follows a second later tells him Len isn’t messing the fuck around. He’s going to make Mick pay for his shit. Well, fair enough.

Len brings the paddle down on Mick's ass again and again, fast and hard. It burns, and Mick struggles a bit, but he doesn’t want Len to stop either. He only knows one way to make sure of that. “That all you got, boss?” he taunts, between little yelps and hisses and curses.

"Mind your fucking mouth," Len snarls, and brings the paddle down harder. "Gonna see you crying from it," he adds, continuing to paddle him. "One way or another."

He doesn’t really sound angry. Mick wonders at that, through the pain. Len’s snarl is the same tone he uses on jobs to rein Mick in, let him know who’s boss. If Len’s trying to help, to get Mick out of his bad headspace, this might even work.

Mick hmphs. “Threat or— ahhh!— promise?” But he’s having to push to keep the goading up, now. This hurts. It really _fucking_ hurts. He feels pain in his hand, of all places, and opens his eyes to find he’s biting it.

"You know I don't make idle threats." Then Len pauses, just briefly.

Mick can see Len above him, straining to get a look at his hand. Mick pulls it away from his mouth, pissed at himself, and shoves both his hands under his forehead on the table. He remembers how this goes, now. You breathe into the pain, let it be the only thing that’s real. More real than anger, or hating himself, or any other need in his crazy head. He can do that. His ass is on fire - but since when was fire a bad thing?

His breath is coming harsher now. He keeps panting as another slap of the paddle jolts his hips into the table. It’s all something else to think about. Anything other than the noise in his head and the rage in his belly.

But then Len starts talking. Low and slow and... disappointed. “You make things harder on yourself than you should, than they need to be. Don't let me take charge of situations because you don't like giving over that much control. Don't let yourself ask for a distraction. Don't let me help you when that's all I'm trying to do, and it's not perfect and it's maybe not even good sometimes, but if you don't fucking let me know that, how am I ever supposed to help you the right way?"

Mick wants to rage against him, but… Len’s right. Mick did everything wrong. He screwed up. Len is the only one who knows how to take him in hand, and Mick is too stubborn and fucked up to let him. The paddle strikes are never-ending and regular, and Mick chokes on a sob, feeling his resistance about to shatter.

Len keeps talking, quieter now, like he’s trying to help ground Mick. "Even now, keeping yourself from breaking down, and why? For your pride? When it's just the two of us, and I've seen you cry and thought you were breathtaking?"

Mick shakes his head against his hands. No. No, he’s not fucking crying. But oh god, the paddle comes down again in a low, tender spot, and he’s shaking with tears he won’t let out. Two desires are warring in him - he wants to hate Len, to beat him, to tear him to shreds with angry words and…

...and he wants to be Len’s good boy.

He shouts out his answer. “I don’t know— ahh!— h-how.”

"Don't know how to what?" Len keeps hitting him. "Don't know how to let go and cry? Don't know how to ask for help? I know words are hard, but Mick...I'm right here. Just start the conversation and we'll figure out what you need together."

Mick can’t tell one strike from another anymore. He can’t feel the table he’s bent over. He can’t be sure what Len’s saying, but he thinks he’s asking him what he doesn’t know how to do… “I don’t know how to be what you need,” Mick whispers. That’s what he’s so mad about. He’s a fuckup who’s never going to make Len happy... never going to be a good partner to him, not in business, and not in... in life…

But it doesn’t matter, because Len’s too good to him. His incredible partner, who— who loves him. A sob tears its way out of his throat. “I’m sorry, boss,” he cries into his folded arms. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a thump. Len has tossed the paddle aside. He pulls Mick up off the table into his arms, cradles him close, rocks him side to side. "My Mick. You are what I need," he murmurs, so that Mick can barely hear him through his crying. "You have been since the first time you saved my life."

“I’m sorry,” Mick chokes into Len’s shoulder. He’s crying, just like Len said he would. Mick had scoffed that he would prove him wrong, but Len knows what he needs. Len always knows. Why can’t Mick just remember that? “I’m sorry, boss. I’ll be better... I can be better for you.”

"It's okay." Len gives him a reassuring little kiss on the side of his head, as if he’s telling Mick he’s right there, that he still loves him. “I can't say I'll never ask you to improve, but oh, Mick, you don't have to earn me. You're mine, you're mine. The rest will come when it does."

Mick sobs against him like a little kid. Now that he’s not angry, all he can feel is how afraid he is. He always was. “Don’t leave,” he chokes out... then wonders where that came from.

"I won't." Len doesn’t move them to the bed or the sofa. Maybe he’s worried moving would shatter Mick. "You're mine - my partner, my Mick. I won't leave you."

Slowly Mick feels whatever storm he’s been lost in starting to roll out again. He focuses on catching his breath, on feeling Len’s strong, firm arms around him, holding him up. On Len’s voice, telling Mick he won’t leave him.

Mick thinks he believes him.

"Come here to me," Len gently says. He guides him slowly into the bedroom - Mick stumbles a little, limping - and eases him facedown onto the bed. "Sorry for the sting," Len’s voice warns from somewhere down the bed - must be putting lotion on Mick’s ass. "I was careless."

Mick hisses a bit when the lotion hits a particularly sore spot, but it’s a good sting. Reminds him he’s here and safe and that it’s Len who’s looking after his hurt ass. That makes him chuckle - Len beat his ass and now he's looking after it. “‘S funny.”

"What, the fact that I beat your ass so much the skin split open?" Len’s voice hardens with a touch of self-loathing. "That wasn't funny, that was careless of me. I should have known not to hit you that hard, but you acted like you needed it."

“Shh.” Mick reaches behind to pat in the vague direction of Len’s shoulder. “I did need it. If you’d stopped then, you’d’ve pissed me off more and I’d still be crashing around the living room... threatening you.” He threatened to hit Len. They get into fistfights from time to time, and Len mostly just walks it off and moves on, but Mick always feels like a shitshow of a human for it afterwards. But not enough to stop. The guilt washes over him again like a tsunami, and he drops his head to the pillow. “I’m sorry, Lenny.”

"I deserved it," Len says. That comment doesn’t sit quite right with Mick, but it’s not the kind of thing he’d ever point out. There’s having feelings, and then there’s dealing with their fucked up ways of reacting to this kind of shit, and he’s not sure they’re ever doing the second one. "Besides,” Len adds, “it worked out okay, Or was the crying worse than I thought?"

Mick chuckles, turning his head again to try and get a look at Len, who’s giving him one of his sideways grins. And maybe it’s going to be all right. “Not sure you can call any of that mess ‘working out okay,’ but you’re the boss, boss.” He sticks his tongue out at Len. “Where’s my chocolate?”

"Currently, the chocolate is taking a backseat to caring for your paddled ass, or would you rather I left you to put the lotion on yourself?" Len leans up as though going to kiss him. At the last second, he nudges their noses together, which is almost as nice.

“Hmph.” Mick settles his head back on his pillow, and gives in to the cool relief of lotion on his seriously sore, raw ass. “Did a number on me, boss.”

"Yeah, well, this you asked for. There. _Now_ I’ll get your chocolate - don't get up."

Len’s back in no time with it. The bastard gives Mick a look that says he knows what he’s doing, as he plops down hard enough to jostle the bed a little bit.

“Fuck,” Mick grumbles. Just for that, he grabs the chocolate off his asshole partner. “Mine.”

"Yeah, yeah." Len stretches out next to him. The look he’s giving Mick is almost adoring. Mick is a long way from deserving that, but he’ll take what he can get. "So,” Len says, “Worked out some of that anger in a less fistfight-y way than usual. I'd call that a win."

Mick sighs. He’s about to talk _feelings_ again, and he’s really not sure how this keeps happening. He sneaks an arm around Len. “Ain’t just that,” he says to the ceiling. “If we’d had a fight, I’d still be a swirling mess of shit inside.” He glances down at Len again. “You did something good for me there, Lenny. Thanks.”

"Hey." Len snuggles closer. So apparently they both do this snuggling thing now, even when tears aren't involved. Good to know. "If that's what it takes to get your head settled when you need it like that, it's something I'm happy to provide. Not like it was any hardship for me to paddle your ass."

Mick notices the lascivious way Len looks him up and down, but it seems like a performance. There’s more to it than that. “Uh-huh,” he says doubtfully. “ _That’s_ what you get from it, is it?”

"It's...complicated," Len says slowly. "Not vindictive, mostly, but there's something...appealing about the thought of you taking pain when I give it to you. I don't want to hurt you more than you want to be hurt, but the thought that you want me to hurt you...Yeah, it gets me going in a whole mess of ways."

Mick pauses, wondering if he should tread carefully. Maybe it wouldn't take much for Len to start thinking he was messed up for wanting to give his partner pain. But it’s no weirder than Mick wanting Len to paddle him senseless. He snuggles tighter against Len, getting a soft, happy sound for it. Refusing to laugh about how only a week ago this would have been beyond the pale for them, Mick takes another bite of chocolate. “Well, I’m glad it does. Works out pretty well for me.”

"Sadomasochism," Len laughs. Mick raises an eyebrow in a silent request for clarification. "Uh, a partner who likes causing pain and a partner who loves taking it. Yeah, guess it works pretty well for the both of us." He gives Mick a thoughtful, worried look. "Got the impression being tied up wasn't what you needed to get out of your head that time."

“Nah. Not when I was about to lose it like that.” He thinks back, grimacing. “I wanted to set a fire, but that probably wouldn’t have done much either.” He knows what would have, but he would have regretted it later. Len looks at him like he knows what he's thinking. Probably does, given how many times he's walked in on Mick holding matches to his skin. He gets angry every time, giving Mick a dressing-down as he dresses the wounds, but he takes care of him too. He always takes care of Mick.

"Glad this worked," Len says, his gaze on his chocolate. "Better than the other thing."

Mick narrows his eyes at his too-clever partner. Then he sighs, and kisses him. He’s pretty sure he can only get away with this kissing thing in the afterglow of something kinky, even now, but that’s okay. He grasps his opportunity while he can, lingering on Len’s lips as sweetly as he can get away with.

Len practically lights up at the kiss. When they break apart, he murmurs, "I mean it. You've been so good for me."

Mick chuckles. “I just yelled at you about what an asshole you are until you whipped my literal butt into shape. I ain’t sure ‘good’ is the word you want.”

"More productive than what we could have done," Len points out. He breaks a piece of chocolate off of Mick's half-eaten bar and holds it out for his partner. “Call that 'good' in my book."

“Hah.” Len’s not wrong. And he’s sharing chocolate with Mick - now there’s something Mick never thought he’d see from Leonard Snart. “Guess you’re right. This kinky thing is… It’s kinda surprising, but I like it.” Which reminds him. Bumping Len’s shoulder with his own, Mick adds, “So. What do you wanna try next?” There was a lot on Len’s list. Mick is partial to the idea of the candles - and he still wants to see if he can get Len to let Mick try waxplay on _him_ \- but Len fell apart so beautifully for him before, with the flogging, and he wouldn’t mind just taking him in hand with his, uh, hand. That would be nice and... personal.

"Think it might be your turn to be in charge." Len leans in closer. "Hey, the heist isn't far off. We could...dunno, see how it goes. A punishment if it ends poorly, or something kinda celebratory to keep the mood going if it ends well."

Mick waggles his eyebrows at him. The thought of punishment or reward, and having to wait to see which it is, is an enticing one. “Yeah, that sounds good. Being in charge does, too...” He’s getting sleepy, all of a sudden.

"Don't fall asleep on the chocolate." Len shifts the remnants of the bar. “Always me who wakes up with it stuck to me, when you do that.” Grinning, he adds, "The waxplay thing is still open. If you behave on the heist, I'll let you play with fire when we get home."

Mick feels a sleepy chuckle rumble in his chest. He wraps his arms around Len, pulling him as close as he can. “Yeah. Reward. I’ll behave, boss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To skip Mick’s brief thoughts about self-harm, stop reading at “Nah. Not when I was about to lose it like that” and pick up again at “Mick narrows his eyes at his too-clever partner.” You won’t miss any plot.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, while the scene itself doesn't have any sexual components, there is some after-scene sex (with bratty Len playing at resisting even though he actually loves it). If that's not your thing, you can skip starting at "Think mixing ‘fire’ and ‘you’ hasn’t been getting me hot for an hour now?” and ending at "When they’re both done, Mick pulls out slow but stays close".

The heist, for once, goes off flawlessly - even the much-contested Scudder plays his part. Even though it's a risk, they eventually make it back to the safehouse with all their equipment. Len made promises, after all, and he intends to keep them. And with the post-heist high still thrumming through him, he's half-desperate for a scene. 

He ends up climbing on Mick once they're through the door - habit. The kiss is long and hot and sloppy, and Len has to remind himself that they're doing a scene, not sex. "I promised you could play with fire," he says delightedly when they break apart.

Mick’s excited expression and eager pleas just get Len hotter for it. “I did good?” he murmurs into the kiss. “I get fire?”

"You did," Len agrees. Oh, this should be an interesting scene. Mick's clearly half in the subby role already despite Len's promises that he could take charge. The thought of Domming from the bottom, as it were - letting Mick drip wax on him, praising him for causing him pain...yep, they might just have to do that. "And good boys get their reward."

Mick gives the cutest little half-bounce. “...Oh! You’re gonna let me drop wax on you, boss?”

"Yes, Mick." Len gives him another kiss, just because. "Go pick your favorite candle, hmm? And bring it to me so I can light it." He doesn't entirely trust Mick with matches - not because he fears he'll light the house on fire, but because he tends to let them burn down far enough to singe his fingers. Len doesn't want his good boy hurt.

While Mick chooses a candle, Len strips down to his underwear and lays towels over their battered sofa. That should keep it from suffering under the wax.

Mick brings back a big, yellow candle with flame patterns up the side. Of course that’s his favorite. Len greets him with a kiss and an excited, "Good choice." 

Since Mick doesn’t do so well with surprises, Len shows him the setup on the sofa. "I'm gonna light the candle, then I'm gonna lay down. Do your best to hold the candle so only a little wax drips on me at a time, okay? If you feel yourself get drawn into the flame, hold it upright, and after enough time without a drip, I'll check in."

“Yes, boss,” Mick murmurs. Oh, he’s so sweet, still in mostly-obedient heist mindset. Len wants to spoil him with a nice, long, fiery scene. “Color, boss?”

"Green." Len strikes a match and holds it to the wick on the candle. It catches after a moment and Len shakes out the match. A curl of smoke drifts up toward the ceiling, and idly, he hopes they don't bring the fire department down on themselves. That would be a fine way to be caught after a heist. 

Once he's sure the candle is lit, he lies down on the sofa, leaving his back exposed and ready for Mick to cover in wax. "Tilt the candle just a little bit," he coaxes. "Just enough for small drops."

He can only assume Mick obeys, since he can’t see him from this position. He doesn’t hear the wax fall, only feels it land. The pain is sudden and bright, and Len's senses light up with it. He lets out a little yelp before hissing as he feels the wax cool into a hard, distinct droplet. 

"So good for me," he murmurs, already feeling languid and hazy. Oh, he's going to have to watch that feeling. "You're being so good for me."

Mick lays a hand on Len’s arm. It’s a lovely, grounding touch - can Mick tell how far he’ll float away without it? “Color, boss?”

"Green." Len lays a hand over Mick's before hissing softly as a slightly-too-large drop of wax lands on his back. It's not quite big enough for Mick to spread it around and disperse the heat, but it takes longer than the others to cool. "This feels so good, trusting you to do this."

“Good,” Mick echoes softly. He lays down another hot, brilliantly painful trail of wax in the small of Len’s back. 

Len knows his own scars, except on his back. That doesn't make him any less sure that Mick is following them, splashing them with yellow wax, lighting them up like flames. The thought makes him drift further into this pleasant, hazy headspace where he's Mick's and he doesn't have to worry. "Yours," he whispers, tilting his head to the side but not quite able to catch a glimpse of Mick at work.

“Mmm,” Mick sighs. “You’re mine, boss.” He punctuates it with another splash of wax. Len hisses and does his best not to squirm. Yes. He’s Mick’s, and all this wonderful hot pain he’s enduring is for Mick.

The pain this time doesn't build the way it had during the flogging; it's sharper, brighter, but it fades too quickly to take over like the flogging pain. It means Len doesn't drift away quite as far, just to a low, sweet, persistent haze that makes him hiss and then smile at every new bright drop of wax. 

“Color, boss?” Mick is so good, checking in with him. His voice is a little firmer this time, like he’s starting to shift into a slightly more dominant headspace. That’s good. It means Len can let go a little more.

"Green," Len says again, the word coming out somewhere between a hiss of pain and a delighted sigh. Wow this masochism thing might actually have something to it. He never thought he could like pain quite like this, but at Mick's hand - challenging himself to take the next drop, then the next, and feeling the burst of pleasure after the pain - yeah, it's worth it. "You're - _ah_ \- gonna have to get a picture of me when you're done."

That must be the right thing to say, because all of a sudden Mick is full of praise. “Yeah, boss. You should see yourself. You’re so hot like this, so gorgeous for me... letting me warm you up. You’re so good for me, Lenny. Look at you.”

Being praised like this goes right to Len's head. Oh yep that makes the pain worth it, just to hear that tone in Mick's voice - proud of himself, proud of Len, in control even though Len wasn't sure he'd want to be. Len spreads himself out, trying to make it easy for Mick to get a picture of him, wanting to see what he looks like all marked up. Idly, he thinks the red marks from the wax will last after they chip the droplets off, and that thought - being marked even once the game is done - makes him sigh. "Green," he murmurs. "Green, you're so good to me, Mick."

Mick sounds genuinely delighted now. “Gonna do your ass,” he says, and does just that. “You’re gorgeous, Lenny.”

The wax doesn't hit as a drop but as a trickle, running in hot little rivulets over Len's ass before it hardens. He can only imagine how it looks, but it feels like the most confusing, perfect tangle of sensations he's experienced since the flogging. " _Yes_."

Mick’s next, genuine murmur hits like another drop of wax. “I think this might be better than watching fire.” Len can't see him, but he'd been assuming at least half of Mick's focus was on the flame. It sounds like that's not so - like he's this intently focused on Len. Len doesn't know what to do with that information. 

As caught in his thoughts as he is, he almost misses Mick's softer "Gotta be in charge." 

Thankfully, he hears it, and it draws him out of his hazy headspace enough to murmur, "Yellow." Before Mick can fret, he soothes, "Just checking on you. Been at this awhile - we can call it done if you want."

There’s no hesitation. Mick sets the candle on the coffee table and crouches down by Len’s face to check in. Len gets to see his eyes go wide, like he’s retreating into himself. In a halting, fearful voice, Mick murmurs, “Red.”

"Hey." He reaches out a hand, aware of the fact that this causes a shift in his back that feels weird - not unpleasant, but weird - with the cooled wax coating it. "Okay, that's okay. Blow out the candle for me, good boy. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm still here, I'm okay."

Obediently, Mick blows out the candle. Len can see the immediate, associated shift in his headspace. “I should get you cleaned up,” he says, flat.

Mick's upset that he stopped the scene. That knowledge settles somewhere low and unpleasant in Len's mind for him to worry about later. For now, he's got to take charge again, because Mick's out of his depth. "Get as much off me as you can now, but I'll have to shower the rest away. Or..." Gently, a little worried that Mick won't want to now that Len's ruined the mood, he checks, "Do you want to take a picture?"

Mick smiles a little bit at that. Okay, that’s good. “Yeah,” he murmurs, reaching for his phone. “Stay right there.” As he snaps the pictures, he starts talking, a little bit of his in-scene eagerness returning. “You gotta see yourself, Lenny. You were incredible. You took all that heat... we ain’t calling you Cold anymore. You were so good for me.”

That sounds like Mick is...well, at least still happy about the wax. Len shouldn't have safeworded, not if everything is this under control. He'll know for next time, anyway. Mick's saying he's good, but he's also covered in remnants of fire, so there's probably some crossover there. "You took such good care of me," he says, and means it. He shouldn't have doubted that Mick would take care of him. "Wanna see how you marked me up."

Mick hums and starts gently stripping the wax away from his back. It’s more discomfort than pain, with none of the associated pleasure, but Len supposes it's part and parcel of the fun. He shifts periodically, trying to crack the wax into smaller chunks that Mick can break off more easily, but it doesn't feel like he has much success. 

Mick’s still talking as he works. “You look so good, boss. So beautiful, all burned up. Mmm.”

Okay. That tone quiets the part of him that's still anxious over safewording. Mick's happy now, has that special, focused tone he reserves for situations with fire. And he's saying Len looks good - yeah, he probably does, all burned red and tender under lines of yellow wax. "All down to you," he says fondly. "You picked the patterns - and they were some good ones, from this end."

Mick makes a little happy noise and helps Len up from the sofa. “Come on. Shower,” he orders, offering Len a shoulder to lean on.

Getting up still feels a little stiff - Mick did well at getting the majority of the wax, but there are still little clinging bits that tug at his skin when he moves. He doesn't really need to lean on Mick, but it's a ready-made excuse to touch, so he takes it. "Yeah, shower sounds good."

Mick makes the water nice and cool, exactly how Len likes it. Then, to Len’s surprise, he joins him, although for his heat-loving partner, the cool water has to be torture. “You want me to clean you off?”

"Yeah," he agrees softly. "That'd be nice."

Mick gets to work, easing off the last of the wax and then soaping Len down. “This was good,” he says, as he works. When he gets to Len’s front with the washcloth, he pauses, meeting his eyes. “I don’t want you to feel bad about calling yellow though. You hear me? I needed to be in a real good headspace for that, and I wasn’t no more.”

"I got worried for you," Len admits. "I figured...this thing's about communication, checking in, and I thought I should do some of that. I didn't mean to make you feel like you'd done anything wrong, and I didn't mean to disappoint you." He says it quickly, like that'll keep Mick from picking up on it. It's not important, but hey, communication and shit, they apparently do that now.

Mick shakes his head hard. “‘S about knowing each other, too. You got that I was starting to panic about drifting. That was about to get me into a vicious cycle so hard...” He pecks Len on the lips. “You did good, boss.”

Len’s not so sure about that, but he manages a crooked smile. "Worked out okay, I guess."

“Yeah.” Mick gives him a surprisingly soft smile followed by a slap on the butt. “Out. Gotta get food in ya.”

Len hisses at the slap on the ass, which stings more on wet skin - good to know. Obediently, he steps out of the shower, grabs a towel for himself, and holds one out for Mick. "Gotta warm you up before the cold water turns you into a Micksicle."

Mick rolls his eyes and nudges him toward the bedroom. “None of your shitty puns.” 

Len’s tempted to follow Mick out to the kitchen, but the allure of something soft to guard his burned bottom is too great. He lets Mick push him into the bedroom, puts on his soft sweatpants, and curls up to await Mick's return. 

"You brought hot chocolate," he says happily when Mick returns. He takes the mug Mick holds out to him, sips eagerly, and makes a delighted sound. "Hmm, that's good. One more hot thing to finish off a very hot evening." He can't resist sneaking Mick a sideways glance as he says it, although he gets the impression they're calling things done as is, or Mick wouldn't have brought beverages to bed.

Mick’s eyebrows shoot up. “You keep calling things ‘hot’ I’m gonna make them hotter. Think mixing ‘fire’ and ‘you’ hasn’t been getting me hot for an hour now?”

"Oh, well, I hated to assume." Len can't help sneaking a hand down between Mick's legs to feel exactly what the scene did to him. They might be keeping their sex and kink separate so far, but damn if he didn't enjoy getting Mick worked up like this for later. He makes an exaggeratedly pouty face, daring Mick to take what he wants. "Oh, but I'm _so_ sore..."

Mick rolls his eyes and smacks Len’s thigh. The smack makes him draw in a breath and oh, yep, he's still got enough leftover crossed-pain-and-pleasure going on in his brain that it gets him going just fine. “Brat. You want it or not?”

"Dunno. Maybe...if you insist..." He can't tell if Mick actually likes the bratty act or not, but hey, the thought of being used a little roughly after the careful if painful waxplay is far too appealing.

Mick chuckles, eyebrows going up. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he says, and flips Len over. “Color?”

"Green." Len's a little breathless after being thrown around, not because it hurts (though his back twinges with pain in a way he really likes) but because Mick tossing him around has always been a little bit of a turn-on. Maybe he's weak for knowing he can trust Mick to be rough without hurting him. He's not going to admit it. "Fuck, if you don't keep going I'm gonna have to do this myself, take all your fun away."

Mick guffaws, and oh that’s good to hear. Roughly, he drags Len’s pants down, grabbing the lube off his nightstand. He slicks up his fingers first, pushing a couple in nice and rough. Len makes a noise somewhere between a whimper and a sigh when Mick pushes into him like that. He makes a show of trying to clamp his legs shut when all he wants is to let them fall open and let Mick take what he wants. "It hurts," he fusses in a voice that means exactly the opposite.

Mick slaps the side of Len’s thigh. “You asked for it,” he growls, not quite a threat, and adds another finger.

Len tries to hide the way he's rocking up into Mick's rough thrusts, enjoying the feeling of pressure - almost too much, never quite unpleasant. Mick's too careful, even when he's being rough. "Oh, aren't I terrible, to ask for it this rough," he teases, reaching up and dragging Mick down into a kiss. They do this, heated kisses in the middle of sex, but it doesn't usually feel quite this...feelings-y. He attributes that to the lingering emotions from the scene, but he's not complaining.

Mick takes charge of the kiss, just like Len wanted him to. “Damn right you are,” he grumbles when they part. Then, the bastard, he withdraws his fingers and leaves Len empty.

Len knows it's what he wants, but he can't help whining. He clenches his legs shut in a vain attempt to give himself a little relief from the feeling of being so empty and almost accidentally knees Mick in the chest. Well. Nice to know they're not any more graceful than usual. " _Bastard_ ," he says, because it's more them than begging (though he will beg if Mick doesn't hurry up).

“That’s me,” Mick agrees, but he pushes into him with a groan. He drops to his right and turns Len onto his side, hugging him to his front as he thrusts into him. “And what do you want, huh?”

Len whimpers when Mick pushes into him, almost finds himself begging anyway, and then clams up when Mick asks. Nope. If Mick wants him to beg, he's gonna have to earn that. That doesn't mean he isn't loud, though, because he certainly doesn't lack for reason - Mick's inside him, fucking him roughly just the way he wanted it. He's just not gonna make any noises that Mick could construe as words until he earns that begging.

Mick’s getting fed up at the stubbornness, if the increased force of his thrusts is any indication. He draws his nails across Len’s stomach - they’re fairly blunt, but not totally bitten down right now - and squeezes the muscle of Len’s arm with his other hand. “Fuck you, boss. What do you _want_?”

Oh _yes,_ Mick's making it hurt. Len never used to react like this to pain - a little roughness, yeah, when he got in the mood, but being turned on by pain is new. Apparently this kink thing really is messing with them. "I want _you_ ," he admits, drawing it out into a moan, trying to resist saying it. Well. That one's new. Used to be he'd snarl for his release, but somehow Mick feels like the priority right now.

Mick freezes a bit at that comment, but he makes up for it with a perfect, hard thrust. “I got you, partner,” he murmurs, and reaches out to grab Len’s cock. He sucks on the side of Len’s neck in a way that’ll leave a nice mark. Len tips his head back to make it easier for Mick to mark him. He pretends to hate it afterward because it's expected of him, but in the moment, he does everything he can to make it easier for Mick. 

"Hurts," he sighs, but it's the good kind of hurt. Mick is pressed right up against his sore back, the pain is just right, and his body heat makes him think of the wax. "Green, green."

Mick makes a happy noise at the check-in that builds into a groan. It’s all the warning Len gets before he comes, tugging hard around Len’s cock to finish him off too. When they’re both done, Mick pulls out slow but stays close, spooning him from behind. “Hey.”

"Hey." Len grins and presses back against him. Mostly, it's to get away from the mess - or that's what he'd say if Mick asked. "Was that good for you?" He pretends he's not asking whether he was good. They're not doing a scene anymore - he shouldn't care.

“Yeah.” Mick kisses his neck right over the hickey. Len purrs at the little twinge of pain, even from just a gentle kiss. “You were good for me, Lenny. So good.”

"That was nice," he murmurs. "Especially the parts where you were rough. Needed it that way, I think - at least I did."

Mick sounds a little hesitant. Len can’t figure whether he’s asking about right now or earlier, with the wax. “You sure I didn’t hurt you?”

"Be able to tell better in the morning, I think." Len turns around so he can drape his arm over Mick. They're properly cuddling now...eh. They do that, he supposes. "Right now, nothing feels hurt. If you mean the wax stuff, no, I don't think so. You took good care of me afterward."

Len is startled when, instead of answering, Mick touches his face like - like he's special. He's not, or at least not enough to warrant a touch like that, but he doesn't have time to protest or move away before Mick leans in and kisses him. Oh. Oh. That's a whole lot of feelings packed into the kiss, and by the time they break apart, there are tears stinging the backs of Len's eyes. 

"Hey," he says, trying to downplay the tears. They don't kiss like that - except now they do. And he doesn't fucking cry like this, except for the part where apparently he does.

Mick’s eyes go wide at the crying. Fair - Len doesn’t do this, even after scenes. The way Mick thumbs at his tear tracks feels way too gentle, way too worried. “Did I... do something wrong?”

"No." Len catches his hand and holds it there, thinking he'll be motivated to stop crying if he'll make a mess of Mick's hand otherwise. "It's just a lot. Thirty years of...whatever the fuck we are, with feelings we didn't...talk about, or think about, or deal with, and now you're kissing me like that." It's a clumsy explanation, but he thinks Mick will get it. He hopes he gets it.

Mick nods slowly, seriously, at Len. And then he just laughs, stroking his cheek. “So, boss... this what you had in mind, when you started reading up on kinky shit?”

Len doesn't know whether to be stung by Mick's laughter or to laugh right back. He settles for chuckling and shaking his head. "Not in the slightest, but you know the drill. Expect the plan to go off the rails, and all that." He presses closer and presses his forehead against Mick's shoulder. "I told you, though. It's good to know this stuff, even if it took us this long to get here."

Mick kisses Len’s head. “Yeah, but... Lenny, I’m sorry it took this. And thirty years.”

"Not your fault." Len squeezes him tight with the arm that's draped over his waist. He can feel Mick rubbing his face lightly back and forth, stimming with Len's curls. Huh. Maybe he should grow those out again, let Mick play with his hair the way he used to let little Lisa do. "Words are hard. I could've started it."

“Hah.” Mick doesn’t have much of an answer to that. Len suspects he’s been trying to find the words for something for a long time, but he’s not sure if he’s there yet. Well, Len can give him time.

Because Len's afraid of what will come out if they linger in this cuddly, feelings-y headspace, he does his best to redirect. They'll get back here eventually, with the way things have been going. "What's a guy gotta do to not end up sleeping in the wet spot, huh?"

“Gotta be less of a brat,” Mick mumbles, already close to sleep. 

Len’s still amused at that when he falls asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Clearly, Len noticed Mick’s reaction when he started bratting it up last time, because it’s not so long before he tries it again. 

That day, Mick is treating himself to a writing afternoon. It’s one of those lazy weekend days that he loves to spend at his typewriter, with coffee at his elbow, low sunlight filtering in onto the page he’s working on. Perfect.

Or it would be perfect, if Len wasn’t bored. His partner has spent the better part of an hour draping himself over furniture that isn't meant to be sat on - the kitchen counters, the coffee table, and the arm and back of the couch. Mick rolls his eyes at each more ridiculous plea for attention, but he’s not giving him any, unless he asks politely. But by the time Len ends up accidentally rolling down between the back of the couch and Mick's back, and then pushing Mick off the couch in his attempt to get himself up, Mick is about ready to snap. 

"I'm bored," Len says before Mick can complain.

Rolling his eyes, Mick shoves Len off the couch and sits back down. This way Len’s been acting recently - it’s different, but not new, exactly. It’s almost healthy, in a weird way, compared with the way he used to express his boredom. Going out and beating people up in the hope they’d fight back, if it was the self-loathing kind of boredom. Burying himself in blueprints and obsessive thinking, if he wanted to channel it. On the whole, Mick prefers the bratting. He’s been doing some reading on how Doms deal with bratty subs - not that Mick really thinks he’s a Dom, but maybe he and Len are switchier than they first realized - so he’s already got a plan for this. They haven’t put limits down, haven’t talked about how Mick’s supposed to react, and maybe they should... But for now, Mick’s going to give Len what he thinks he wants, and see what it gets him.

He turns back to his writing. “Is that right? Guess the king of scheduling didn’t organise a scene in time to stop his boredom kicking in. Sad for you.”

Clearly, being ignored was the one outcome Len hadn't planned on. He visibly bristles, but seems to be resisting actual bad behaviour, instead flopping down on the couch with his arms crossed. "That's it? You're just going to sit there and hunt through your thesaurus for the next right word?" 

It's something of a jab at Mick's writing ability, but probably only for the bratty effect. “Yeah, I’m gonna do my work. And rudeness ain’t gonna get you what you want faster, Lenny. Communication, remember? _You_ said that was what this was all about. You want something, you ask for it. You act like a kid...” Mick peers over his glasses at Len, like a teacher with a naughty kid, knowing that it’ll piss him off. “Then I’ll treat you like one.”

"And what does that mean?" Len demands, giving himself a dramatic little shake like a petulant child. "You're going to make me sit in the corner and write 'I've been a bad boy' a hundred times?"

Mick barely condescends to raise an eyebrow at him. “We could start there. That what you want?” He looks back down at his writing, but he’s not seeing the words there. _Dammit, Len._ This is taking way more self-control than Mick had expected it to. But he’s curious to see where Len wants to take it, if Mick sees this through. 

"No," Len says, playing up the pout and childish tone even more. "I want you to pay attention to me." Before Mick can answer, Len walks over and plops himself down in his lap. "I'm bored," he repeats.

The lap thing again. Mick sighs, leaning into the impression of stern irritation, in spite of the excitement churning in his belly. Oh, he knows what he wants to do to this brat. His whiny partner, always begging Mick to treat him like a naughty, spoiled kid. And now he’s gonna. “Last warning, Lenny. You ask for what you really want, or you get what I’m gonna give you.” 

Len squirms, apparently enjoying the threat of punishment. "Do your worst.” 

That’s it. Mick stands, pushing Len off his lap - he stumbles awkwardly to his feet. Is that a flash of nervousness he sees on his partner’s face? Good. He points at the corner. “You think you’re bored now? You’re about to be.” He divests Len unceremoniously of his pants, letting them pool around his ankles. “Get in the corner. _Now._ ”

Len makes an indignant noise at the loss of his dignity. "Not doing it 'cause you told me to," he says sulkily, as he waddles to the corner. 

Mick watches through narrowed eyes, refusing to acknowledge how amazing it feels to make Leonard Snart walk to the corner and stand there, all without laying a hand on him. Mick’s going to make Len take his time there, and he’s not telling him how long. “Nose in the corner,” he snaps at Len’s wandering eyes. “I think I’ll get back to writing.” He’s going to make Len hate every second of this.

Len turns to face the corner, but he doesn’t look happy about it. It occurs to Mick that this is one of the worst punishments he could give him, making him wait with no sense of how long for, having to count seconds into eternity. A point that Len proves when, after three and a half minutes, he raises a hand to the wall and starts tapping out a beat, irregular and unpredictable and exactly the kind of noise he must know Mick will hate.

A small part of Mick wants to laugh out loud. Only Leonard Snart could be a brat without saying a fucking word. To be fair, Mick didn’t tell him to do anything except to stand in the corner. But Len knows he’s pushing the limits now.

Mick pushes out his chair with a squeak that he hopes is appropriately nerve-wracking. Going to the wall, he lands two almighty smacks on Len’s naked thigh, where it will really hurt. “Stop. That,” he says, in time with each smack. “You’re gonna stand here and you’re gonna wait, till I’ve decided you’re enough of a sorry boy. Then you’ll take your real punishment.”

“Or what?” Len says, in his brattiest tone.

Mick takes a deep breath. Of all the people who could want to sub for him, of course it would be his asshole of a partner. “That was your first strike. Start counting. The more you do this, the longer you spend in that corner.” Turning around, he heads back to his desk. 

The minute Mick sits down, Len starts whistling the same song he was tapping.

“Keep counting, Lenny,” Mick shoots cheerfully back to him. “That’s two.”

Len stops whistling. 

He makes it all of two minutes before he starts drumming his hands against his belly and each other, in a seriously obnoxious rhythm. The _little fucker_ wants to find out what happens when he hits three strikes.

Mick takes his time ambling back to Len. Then he shoves him to his knees. If Len wants to be manhandled, Mick can oblige. “Three. Now you’re doing the rest of this on your knees. You pull any more shitty little stunts, I’ll double the time you’re down there.” He crouches down beside his kneeling partner. “This is real simple, Lenny. You want your punishment? This first. I can do this all day. I’m a patient man.” Unlike Len.

Then Mick stands above Len, and waits.

"Simple, huh?” Len says in a hazy voice that tells Mick he’s already teetering on the edge of subspace. “I dunno. You might have to explain it to me again.”

So the kneeling works better than standing him in the corner. “Yeah. You got ten more minutes kneeling, and then I’m taking you over my knee and spanking you with my bare hand on your bare bottom like a little kid. Any more questions, or are you gonna be a good boy and wait?”

"No more questions," Len murmurs, but he pointedly doesn’t commit to being a good boy. 

Mick keeps a closer eye on Len than he’d care to admit for the next ten minutes. His eyes go a little distant, but Mick doesn’t see distress there. When the time is up, Mick folds his arms across his chest. “Up. Bedroom.”

Len stumbles to his feet little clumsily, thanks to the jeans still down around his ankles. Mick hopes he feels appropriately ridiculous, waddling all the way to the bedroom. When they get there, Len crosses his arms and stares insolently at Mick. "Well?"

Mick sighs. Fine. If Len doesn’t want to be good, he’ll treat him like a bad boy. He sits on the bed, pointing to the side of his thigh. “Come. Here.”

Still playing up the damn brat, Len says, "Make me."

Mick swallows down the roar he wants to let out. God, he had no idea being a Dom involved this kind of patience. Getting up, he grabs Len’s arm with a growl, and drags him to the bed, throwing him over his lap. He doesn’t bother asking him to count. Let him guess how many he’s getting. Then he just lets his hand fall, not pulling back on his strength, but not beating Len either. He takes his time with firm, stingy slaps that he knows from experience will build and burn by the end. It feels good to get to the punishment part, finally.

Len barely even whimpers or wiggles like the misbehaving boy he's been playacting. After the first few spanks, it looks like all he can do is let out little pained cries after each hit. 

Mick does not let up. He goes for a varied pattern, so Len can’t predict where he’s going to smack him, particularly enjoying slapping the hell out of the same spot three or four times. Then he shifts Len’s angle, moving down lower to his thighs. This has to hurt. It’s sure starting to burn across Mick’s palm, but he’s broken his hand punching men’s lights out - he can take this. 

Len’s little noises of pain are beautiful. Some lovely images are running through Mick’s mind of what he could do to Len next time, too. He’s imagining that paddle he likes so much in his own hand - though it would be a different kind of spanking. He likes this, with his formidable boss bent over his lap like a school kid.

He moves quickly back from Len’s thighs to his butt. This isn’t about hurting him. It’s not even about Mick taking his frustration out on his partner. It’s about making him realize that being turned over Mick’s lap like a kid _stings,_ with humiliation as well as physical pain, and that Mick won’t just give him what he wants without him earning it.

Len’s little noises get a little quieter, maybe a sign that he’s floating, and Mick pauses. God, this whole time, he forgot to check Len’s color. Okay, no panicking this time. “Color, Len,” he demands, in a voice that he hopes makes it clear he wants a real answer.

"Green?" he says in a hazy voice. He seems to be struggling for words a little bit. It’d be almost cute if Mick didn’t know the frustration that goes along with it most times. "Floaty. Not sure I'd feel if something was wrong."

Mick sucks in a breath. It’s a good answer - honest. He needs to reward it. He runs a hand over Len’s hot, red ass. “Good boy,” he murmurs. “I wanna know anytime you ain’t sure you can tell anymore.” He assesses the color of Len’s ass - he could maybe take more, but Mick doesn’t know how many. And if Len doesn’t know when to call for a stop, that means it’s nearly time. But he feels like his partner would be disappointed if he stopped out of the blue now. Like he was with the wax. “Five more, good boy,” he coos softly. “That okay?”

"Yeah," comes Len’s soft, breathy voice. "Thank you, Sir. Yeah."

Mick’s glad Len can’t see him, because he can feel himself smiling at that. There’s no better thrill than having his boss sprawled out across his lap, calling him _Sir_ and thanking him for spanking him. 

He’s a fraction gentler with the last five smacks, hoping Len can’t tell, but they must still sting like crazy when he lands them all in a row, three on one spot on one ass cheek, and then two on the same spot on the other cheek.

He pulls Len up into his arms after the fifth spank, and finds him crying. Not much, just a few stray tears, but not restraining it either. It’s a rare, beautiful sight. "Thank you, Sir," Len says again, burrowing into Mick's arms.

Mick hums soothingly against him, rocking him back and forth, wondering if the movement is more to reassure Len or him. “My good boy. You did so good. Look at you, going from bratty little shit to this.” He runs a hand over Len’s head, and tips his face back a little to look at him. “How you doing, baby?”

Len blinks up at Mick, looking cracked open and exposed. "Good," he murmurs. "Hurts, but in a good way. Still floaty. Not sorry for being a brat." 

Mick laughs out loud at the last part, burying his face in Len’s hair, all the tension rolling out of him at once. “Can’t say I don’t like it a little bit,” he whispers into Len’s hair. “Can I make it hurt less?” They’re on the bed anyway, with lotion close by on the nightstand. Mick doesn’t know why the idea that he hurt Len is hurting him a little, but he goes with it. The weirdest feelings come out in these scenes.

"It's okay, it's good pain," Len says, as if to reassure him, "but if you wanna put some lotion on me, not gonna say no."

Gently, Mick eases him off his lap and onto the bed, removing the rolled-down jeans that must be chafing his legs by now, and setting to work on the hot, raw skin of Len’s butt and thighs. “You were so good for me, baby,” he praises, not wanting Len to feel like he’s been left without comfort. “So good, taking your punishment, and telling me honestly how you were doing when I said to check in. My good sub.”

Len seems to melt into the bed. "So good to me," he murmurs. "Putting up with bratty me, and spanking me so well and checking in… listening to me… so good to me."

Mick rubs his free hand along Len’s back, listening to his calm breathing. “ _Mostly_ good to you. Still ain’t got the hang of telling you what’s gonna happen. Or how many spanks you’re gonna get. Or asking you what the safewords are...”

Len peers over his shoulder. "That wasn't deliberate?" he asks. "I thought that was to keep me off-balance. I liked it." 

“The number thing? Not really. I wanted to keep you on your toes, but I should have given you a range, or something.” Mick doesn’t know if he should mention his partner failing to comment on the issue of safewords. There’s something going on with Len there, but he can’t put his finger on it. Mick knows he’s not helping, though, with forgetting to check in. “Maybe I should make a list of what I’m meant to be doing in a scene, stick it somewhere I can see it.” A flare of panic-shame lights up inside him. “Ain’t sure I’m so good at this, Lenny.”

"Hey, hey." Len sits up, knocking Mick's hands away from his ass, cradling Mick's face. "You're not bad at this, and I don't want you thinking you fucked things up. We’re both learning. I was pushing you into something we hadn't talked through in advance - that's on me too."

Mick nods into Len’s cupped hands. “Okay. Yeah.” He chuckles, aiming one last swat at Len’s still-uncovered butt. “And yeah, you brat, you sure were pushing. I loved it, but give a guy a little warning occasionally. Even if, like, a few days before...”

Len jolts at the spank and makes a little purring noise. "Sorry. You were right when you said I should have planned us another scene before I got bored. We'll have to talk more about the next one. That might help you feel more prepared, too."

Mick chuckles at his predictable partner. “Planning. That sounds like you. Just let me in on it this time, okay?” He wriggles back up the bed, ending up by Len’s head, and turns to give him a little kiss. “You wanna talk about it now?”

“Like what?” Len asks in a teasing tone. “Like giving you a punishment spanking with that paddle you seem to like so much? Or like you turning it around and being my brat boy next time?"

Mick hums, snuggling into Len’s chest. “Any of that. I want you to decide.” He shifts against Len. “Haven’t used those cuffs we bought, yet.”

“You want to be cuffed?" Len reaches up and taps his finger against the slats in the headboard. "The chain goes through here...could spread you out on the bed and drip wax on you this time. Or I could have you all stretched out but up on your knees, presenting your ass for a spanking, maybe with a gloved hand..." He keeps his eyes on Mick's face, like he’s trying to gauge what might get him excited.

Mick feels his eyes widen at the thought of a spanking from Len wearing his gloves... while he’s chained to the headboard of the bed, helpless... But, “You decide,” he says again. If there’s one thing he loves about his partner, it’s his creativity. He bends his head to kiss the top of Len’s. “I trust you.” 

"I know you do," Len agrees. He closes his eyes at the kiss, clearly enjoying it. This kink thing really is turning them sappy, and Mick’s not sure he minds. "But trust isn't enough for this, not when we're playing around hard. Say I were to cuff you and spank you. What do you foresee in that situation that might make you panic? How would we deal with it?"

Mick ponders. “Well, I got the safe words. This thing’s about communication, ain’t it?” But Len’s question is a fair one. What is it that makes Mick drop during these scenes? “Might be afraid of not being what you want,” he admits softly, idly drawing invisible patterns on Len’s shoulders. “Got that oppositional thing, don’t I? The one—“ The brain thing that he can never remember the whole name of. Lenny knows it. “Kicks in when I think I’m no good, and then I get mad...” 

Len nods and kisses his forehead. "I know. And if we're ever doing a scene where you're gonna be bad for me, I might have to write a note or something and leave it where you can see it. My good boy, my Mick." 

“Hah.” Mick shakes his head at his sweet partner. He’s an asshole, but Mick has never doubted he cares about him. “Might be good to see if I can get past feeling like I’m gonna let you down.” 

Mick stares up at the ceiling, trying to work out what else they need to talk about. The stray image comes like a shock of static electricity. His father, looming over him, yelling down at him. Where did that come from? 

No, he knows. He was thinking about things that might make him drop. “I trust you,” he repeats firmly. “Not to set me off, or trigger me, or do anything else shitty. Trust you with my life in a heist, don’t I? Well. Trust you just as much with this.”

That look on Len’s face tells him he isn’t sure whether to believe him. Len has told Mick before that he worries about the mess they’ve both got in their heads, that a scolding or worse could set off, if they're not careful. But now Len just nods. "I'll look after you. Wanna get you down into that pretty place I've hit a few times. I know you're fighting it for your own reasons, but I'll get you there somehow."

Mick smiles at him. “Yeah. Think I’d like that.” He pulls Len back against his chest. “You’re in charge - if you’re okay to take the lead.” He chuckles. “You know that gets me hot and leaping to make you happy on a heist sometimes. Could be the same here.”

Len laughs. "I'll get planning. Might be a bit of a safe scene, but I'm hoping that won't mean boring."

Mick has to stop himself from sighing at his partner like a lovesick kid. “Nothing you plan could ever be boring.” If he knows Len - and he likes to think he does after thirty years - then Len is going to start taking this request to surprise Mick pretty seriously. This scene could turn out to be the most exciting thing they’ve ever tried.


	7. Chapter 7

The more he thinks about it over the next few days, the more he's drawn to his initial idea...Mick cuffed to the bed, spanked. He wants to pull Cold into it, but he's not sure he wants Mick in the Heatwave persona. No. He wants Mick as a hapless civilian, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time by a thief looking for some fun. He’s eager to see how his partner likes that. 

The day of, he gives Mick a ten-minute warning. "I'm going to get you on the bed and cuff you, and then I'll go get something else ready - shouldn't take but a minute or two. You good for that?"

It must be the right thing to say, because Mick fumbles the remote and goes all wide-eyed. Damn that's cute. Is that what he looks like when Mick manhandles him? How does Mick not just use that to his advantage all the time? “Yes, Boss,” he says, and oh, his voice is all soft. Len wants to _wreck_ him. 

"Good boy," he purrs. Can't resist, not when Mick's said how much it helps him. "Remind me of the safewords before we start."

It takes a moment. When Mick speaks, it sounds like he’s operating primarily on autopilot. “Green, all good. Yellow, pause. Red, stop.”

"Good boy," Len says again, just to watch what it does to Mick. Yeah, this is a weakness he's gonna have to exploit more often. "I'm going to try to be on top of check-ins, but you're free to yellow or red at any time. If I check in and you don't answer in...say, ten seconds? Does that sound fair?...I'll count it as a yellow and we'll take a break until you're able to explain what's going on in your head."

Mick blinks at him. Len’s about to offer to adjust the time limit when he starts to nod. “Yeah. That sounds... real good.” Then, adorably, he gives Len another, “Yes, boss.”

Len pets his head, trying to make Mick feel simultaneously cherished and owned. Mick is his to do with as he pleases, and it sounds like he already knows that. "Then go get on the bed for me. I'll be right in." 

Len gives Mick a few seconds to get to the bedroom before sauntering in after him. The cuffs are already waiting on the bed; he sees the way Mick's looking at them, like he's excited for what's coming. That's part of the reason Len takes so long buckling the first one into place. "Tell me if that's too tight, good boy," he says, drawing the strap slowly, slowly tighter so Mick can tell him if it hurts.

Mick’s watching him, all wide-eyed and pliant. It’s an adorable look on him. Idly, Len wonders how long it will last. “Not too tight.”

Once the first cuff is in place, Len coaxes Mick to scoot so he's facing the headboard. He weaves the chain between the slats and secures the other cuff on Mick's wrist before tapping against his belly. "Scoot back so your arms are stretched out in front of you," he orders. "I'll put a pillow down to support your chest. Keep your ass up for me, okay, good boy?" He figures he might as well go heavy on the praise now...he's not sure Cold will be willing to give it. 

Unfortunately, this seems to be one time too many, because Mick’s next “Yes, boss” sounds a lot more strained. Oh well. The wide-eyed submission was cute while it lasted, but this is much more Mick.

Len needs to go get into costume and character and give Mick something else to think about. "Keep your ass up. If you move, I’ll have to punish you for it."

Mick makes a little sound and perks his ass up. He’s probably hoping for a spank. Len will provide that soon enough. “Keeping it up, boss.”

Len slips out of the room and dons his parka and leather gloves. Mick's gonna like this, he hopes, if he's responding so well to the more forceful tone. When he goes back into the room, he drops into his Cold drawl and demands, "Well, well, well. What have we here, caught in my room - on my _bed_?"

Mick turns his head, clearly trying to see what Len is wearing. Len steps half a pace closer to give him a better look. He always enjoys putting on a show. Then Mick’s quiet for long enough that Len starts to worry he’s crossed a line. When he speaks, he’s anxious - slipping into a character, Len hopes, and not genuinely alarmed. “I— Uh, please let me go—"

"Let you go?" he drawls, striding forward and running his hand over Mick's ass, which is still in position. "Oh no, I would never. You've stumbled in here; you should be adequately punished for it."

He pulls Mick's pants down, baring his ass, and delivers a first, harsh swat with his gloved hand. Mick's skin pinks up almost instantly, and Len purrs in delight. "Such a naughty boy. I think I'll make you beg for me to stop, just so I can ignore it."

Mick makes an eager noise at the first smack, which makes Len smile. So Mick's wanting some pain this evening. Well, Len can do that. He starts bringing his hand down hard, laying an even pattern of swats over Mick's behind to get the skin nice and warm before just spanking him wherever he pleases, sometimes in the same spot for several hits. The sight of Mick's pink ass framed by a shirt that's riding ever higher and pants pulled down just enough to trap his legs... _perfect_. He wants his partner properly humiliated. 

"You know, no version of my plan accounted for a trespasser," he drawls, spanking Mick on the sensitive skin at the tops of his thighs. "Guess I'll have to start building that in. How to make trespassers - like - you -" He punctuates each word with a spank "- pay for their crimes."

Mick struggles against the cuffs and sobs out, “Please, I’m sorry!” He already sounds off-balance, wrecked, just from Len’s gloved hand. Maybe roleplay is the way to make pain really get to his stubborn partner.

"Sorry doesn't cut it." Len keeps his voice even. No point in shouting, not when Mick's got tears streaming down his face. There's a part of Len that's delighted by seeing his partner this broken down from a scene. As much as he wants to give Mick some scenes like that one where he knelt, tied up and blissful, making him cry feels _good._ Len will worry about that feeling later. "You came in here looking for trouble, and you're going to get it. I want you to feel this and remember who it was that spanked you red and sore, who it was that humiliated you. You can walk around knowing you’re marked this way. The naughty trespasser who ended up a thief's plaything."

Mick struggles against the cuffs some more and keeps begging. Len pretty much tunes it out, enjoying it as background noise, until Mick bursts out, “Please stop!” 

Len pauses at that. He thinks it's in character, but he can't dismiss the possibility that Mick needs an out and has forgotten the safewords. "Color?" he asks, still in his harsh Cold voice but without an accompanying spank. He'll give Mick the chance to tell him to keep going. Might be nothing to worry about.

“Green,” Mick pants. His voice is shaky and breathless. “Green, please...” 

"Of course." Len goes back to spanking him, glad of the reassurance. His partner wants it to hurt and Len is happy to provide. "You came in here, after all. You're _begging_ for it to hurt. Think I'm gonna go easy on you just 'cause you cry and beg? I want you to know _whose - you - are."_ He punctuates each word with a spank. That ought to get to him. Honestly, he has no idea when either of them's gonna want to stop, and he's not sure they're anywhere close to that point yet.

Len sees and feels Mick's shudder, and oh it's good. He's getting his partner all kinds of keyed up, but he hasn't quite pushed him into subspace yet. No. He needs to get creative for that to happen. He slows the spanking and rubs his hand over Mick's behind, checking for any spots that are getting too red, watching for anywhere that gets a flinch he might want to follow up on. Finding none, he withdraws his hand and pulls off his glove slowly. "No," he purrs, "of course you don't know whose you are yet. This could be anyone spanking you. What I want..." He brings his bare hand down on Mick's ass. "...is for you to feel that it's me."

Mick's making such lovely sounds at being spanked bare-handed, but he's still much too with it for Len's liking. What does he need to do to get Mick into that pretty headspace? Mick had liked kneeling, had liked being quiet and Len's...maybe he should play with that. "I don't want to hear a peep from you until you're ready to admit you're mine," he says coldly. "You stumble into a thief's lair, you should be prepared to play by 'finders keepers'."

Mick freezes at that order. Len wonders if he should revise it, but no - Mick’s leaning back into every spank like he can’t get enough. Apparently, this is working.

"Good boy," Len says, putting enough of a sneer in his voice that he hopes Mick won't bristle. "So obedient. You'll make a nice addition to the hideout...a little stress relief whenever I need it, here to be beaten and punished and maybe, if you're very, very good, given a kind touch afterwards..." He hopes Mick hears that it's in character. He can't bear him thinking that aftercare is dependent on his behavior during the scene.

Mick shivers, whole-body, but doesn’t make a sound. As he’s ordered...he’s such a good boy. Len hopes he’ll be able to hear that and not withdraw from it once the scene is done.

Len tugs on Mick's shirt, yanking him back and up before flipping him around onto his back. The chain will twist to allow it, but it'll tug at his wrists - fine. Mick wants it a little rough, that's what Len is going to give him. The new angle is in fact terrible for spanking, but it gives Len an excuse to snap, "Keep your legs bent and out of the way. If I hit your feet because you let them slip, so be it."

Obediently, Mick raises his legs. Once he does, Len yanks Mick's jeans completely off, leaving Mick bare save for his rucked-up shirt. Len brings his hand down again. At this angle, it hits more on the skin where Mick's thigh connects with the curve of his ass. It's not as forceful, but it still has to sting.

This new position gives Len a glorious view of Mick's face, the way he scrunches his eyes closed and flushes with the hits. He's embarrassed - good. That was Len's goal. He wants him to feel caught and ashamed and owned. 

"What?" he sneers, schooling his face into Cold's emotionless mask now that Mick can see him. "Can't stand being on display for me like this? You forfeit your right to privacy when you violated mine. Your body is mine to hurt and use as I please, as long as I please. Tell me that."

Mick scrunches his eyes closed. He’s got to be right on the edge of giving in. Len’s prepared to reward him for that when the stubborn fucker mutters, “No.”

"No?" Len brings his hand down again, aiming for that tender skin at the juncture of hip and thigh. "You think you get to tell me no? You think you can tell _me,_ the man whose home you entered and whose rightfully stolen goods you touched, that your pathetic body isn't mine?" 

It's an impulsive move, but not a careless one: Len aims the next, significantly less forceful spank at Mick's junk. It might be foul play, given that he never actually asked about it beforehand; it might also be the change in pain that Mick needs. Len's fully prepared to hear 'red' if it's the former, but that's Mick's call now.

Mick’s eyes fly open at the spank, and he stares at Len like he can’t really see him. That look makes Len worry, so he’s grateful when Mick begs, “Please...”

"Please what?" That's not 'red,' but Len also needs to remember that his partner sometimes loses the script. Still, they're in the middle of something, he can tell that, and outright asking for Mick's color feels like it will shatter that. "Please let you go? Please punish you some more? Please remind you that you're mine now, no matter how you fight it?" He brings his hand down again, this time aiming for the thigh again, while not breaking eye contact with Mick. He knows that will put a whole new kind of pressure on his partner (he's not keen on it either, really), but it feels like the thing to do.

Mick shivers and lets out the most piteous whisper of, “Please punish me, Sir.” 

"Good boy." Len makes it sound slightly more genuine this time, as much as any praise can sound genuine in Cold's drawl. He sees tears trickling down from the corners of Mick's eyes and running down around his temples. _Good._

Len aims three light spanks at Mick's junk, just to punctuate how humiliated and helpless he is. He considers a cruel remark to go with it, but no, best not to push it - best to let Mick make the most of whatever hard-to-access headspace he's found.

Mick sobs aloud at the unfair hits and tugs at the cuffs. “Please, Sir,” he says again, sounding like he’s barely even sure why he’s begging.

Len watches him struggle. "You like that?" he demands. "You like it, being my toy, taking all the pain I give you and being grateful for it?" In a slightly softer but by no means coaxing tone (that'll snap Mick out of subspace beyond any hope of getting him back to it) he adds, "Tell me whose you are."

“Yeah,” Mick gasps, between spanks. “Yeah, I like it...” His eyes snap back to meet Len’s, wide and earnest and shining with tears. “I’m yours,” he whispers between sobs. “Yours.”

"Good boy," Len says, sounding too genuine now. He doesn't care. Mick's earned it. He doesn't quite shed the role, but he steps up closer to Mick's head, reaches down and wipes away a tear. "Look at you," he says in a voice that's not quite sure whether it's his or Cold's. "Crying for me. Mine, even in this."

“Always yours,” Mick whispers, leaning into Len’s touch. “No one else’s.” He sounds lost, adrift. It’s perfect. 

"Color?" Len checks, still not quite out of character. He wants to end it here, but he can't take Mick out of this gorgeous headspace just yet when he's barely gotten into it. Give him a few more minutes to float. Reality will crash back in soon enough.

“Green...” Mick whispers. “Yours...”

"My good boy." Len walks back down to give him a few cooldown spanks. They’re lighter than the rest, but with Mick's skin as red and sore as it is, they still have to hurt. "Mine to look after. Mine to hurt, and to take that hurt so perfectly."

“Anything,” Mick murmurs. “Anything you wanna give me.” His eyes drift shut again and he relaxes. “Wanna be yours, Lenny.”

'Lenny' means he's dropped out of character. Len is okay with that. He shrugs off the parka and sets it aside before perching on the bed near Mick's head. "You are," he assures him, stroking his ungloved hand over Mick's tearstained face. "You're my partner, even when you're tied up and playing that you're not."

He reaches up and unbuckles the cuffs. Once Mick's arms are free, he helps ease them down by his sides, gently rubbing the nearer one to make sure Mick's not too sore. "Real check-in this time. Tell me how you feel."

Mick’s clearly struggling for words. The fact that he finds them...sort of...just makes Len that much more in awe of the lovely headspace he must have found. “Floaty... Safe... Sore... Thrill... Warm... Love you.”

"I love you too," Len says, the words coming easily when Mick's this out of it. He bends down and presses a kiss to Mick's forehead. "If you're comfortable, just stay in that headspace a little longer. I'll be right here when you're ready to come up."

Mick reaches up his hands but doesn’t quite make contact. “Yeah. That’d be nice.”

Mick wants a kiss. Len leans down and gives it to him, nice and slow and deep, hoping it just helps him keep floating, wherever he is in his mind. No sooner have they parted than Mick makes a piteous noise. "Good sore or bad sore?" Len checks, schooling his worry into something mostly manageable.

“Bit of both,” he admits. “I loved being stuck like that, but I guess the ache was building.” He pulls away from Len so he can rub one wrist, then another. Then he blinks, and groans. “Ass is on fire.”

"Turn over, I'll go get the lotion." Len gives him one more kiss so that the order doesn't feel abrupt or cold. "I didn't think either of us could keep going that long. I bet my palm's a fun color pink to match."

Mick squirms as Len starts rubbing lotion on his backside. “Fuck. You really took your frustrations out on my ass. Was I that terrible for ya?”

"You were a stubborn asshole playing a little innocent civilian. I don't know why I thought that role would suit you." Len grins and digs his thumbs in a little, doing his best to massage the lotion in without causing Mick too much pain. "No, you were good for me. I could just see you getting caught outside that hazy space again - it's not easy for you, is it? Not like it is for me."

Mick turns his head and gives him a weird look. Rather than give context for that look, he mutters, “Not easy.”

Mick's not there yet. Len can hear it in his voice. That's okay - Len can be patient. "All right," he says. He can't resist giving Mick's lotioned behind one more pat, but it's light, not designed to hurt. "We can come back to that. What about the, um. Fact that I think I caught you a little off-guard?"

“Hmm.” Mick shifts on the bed so he can look at Len. “You freaked me out a bit. Didn’t know what you wanted... it kicked off that whole thing where I don’t wanna do the thing.”

That'd be that, then. Len hadn't counted on getting the answers to both questions so soon. "Sorry," he mumbles. He scoots up beside Mick, lays alongside him, and reaches out a hand slowly to give him some time to back away from his touch. "You said you trusted me to make sure you got there, and...I wanted to impress you." It's a ridiculous thing to admit, and it verges on the much deeper truth that he wants to be good for Mick, but he's not about to get into that right now.

Mick closes his eyes and leans into Len’s touch like an affectionate cat. “No sorries. Ain’t saying I didn’t like it. Just needed some warning. Next time.” He grins, planting a kiss on Len’s lips. “Impressing me’s okay. You sure did that.”

Len makes a happy sound into the kiss and pulls back to give Mick a smile that's a little too wide, a little too in love. And oh, isn't he that? "We need to talk more. Every eventuality, everything that we intend to do during the scene. I don't want to hurt you. Again." Because it's aftercare and he figures he can get away with it, he nudges their noses together, admitting, "Love you too much to wanna push you away again."

Mick can’t help it - he chuckles. “Come on,” he mutters into Len’s ear. “If we keep talking all these feelings, one of us is gonna blow up, and not the good kind of explosion neither. Let’s go get food.”

Len is spoiled by having a partner that's also a phenomenal cook, though he feels somewhat guilty at not being able to provide a nice meal for his good boy after such a chaotic scene. While Mick is still cooking (and thus can't see his face), he asks in a carefully too-neutral tone, "...What would you think if I said I'd be up for...something like what we did today, but flipped? You in charge...making me feel bad. Or small. Out of control." That's the crux of it. He always has to be the one in control - Mick's the only person he can trust to take it away and not torment him too badly in the process.

Mick turns to give him this look that almost has Len taking back his words, dismissing it as a spur-of-the-moment thing unworthy of being followed up. “You want me to make you feel small,” he repeats, looking for clarification. “In a role play?”

"Humiliated, I guess. Make me feel like nothing, so I can hear what you would tell me if you actually thought that way." That way, maybe, he can dismiss it from his brain when it starts thinking that Mick's just with him out of...well. Lack of anywhere else to go.

Mick’s quiet for way too long. Len’s thinking of the best way to steer this conversation in a vastly different direction when he finally says, “Okay. But we gotta plan better than this time, yeah? I need to know what your limits are.”

Right. Len's gonna be the one in charge of safewords and crap, if he's the one getting beaten and called names. Except no...Mick's still in charge, it'd be his scene. Len doesn't want to ruin anything if Mick gets into a fun headspace while he's scolding him. No doubt he has plenty to say. "No comments about my looks," he decides eventually. Some of the kids in juvie had a habit of calling him 'Pretty' in a way that meant trouble, and he's never quite gotten over it. "Other than that, you can say whatever. Make do all kinds of crap I wouldn't do, just to make me feel used. You ever feel like I give you orders just to make you feel bad about yourself, sometimes? I don't...most of the time...but I see where you'd think that. Turn that around on me."

Mick narrows his eyes at him. “ _Limits_ ,” he repeats firmly. ”You want me to make you clean the floor naked on your hands and knees, you can be my guest, but I gotta know if this is just the same stuff we’ve already done with me calling you some more names, or if you want me to get really creative.” He leans forward, staring like he wants to make Len uncomfortable. It’s worse that it works. “At least give me...I dunno, a ballpark range of what kinds of things you won’t do.”

"Um." Len makes a noise that he can be embarrassed about later. That voice Mick's doing goes all kinds of places, and he's not sure how to feel about that. He drags in a deep breath and thinks about it. "No striking with a closed fist. No choking. No blood." Those have been limits for...pretty much ever, and they all go back to Lewis somehow. "No telling me I'm anything like my dearly departed dad. That'll either shut me down or get me riled up enough to throw something back at you to sting, and I don't wanna hurt you."

Mick sits back in his chair, still staring. “If we’re really doing this, you damn well better promise me you’ll use those colors. Gonna make you say what they all mean twice before we start.”

"I'll use the colors," Len promises, and he doesn't even cross his fingers. He'll use them as a last resort, but that's his own judgment. 

Mick taps on the table as he thinks. “Could get you to do a bunch of housework naked, and if I don’t like how it’s done you can get spanked for it...” He grins at Len suddenly, and leans towards him across the table again, letting his voice get gruff and commanding. Len melts more than a little bit at that voice. “And how about we go shopping for some more shit at that kink store where you lorded it over me how much you knew, only this time you don’t get to wear any underwear, and I get to tell you everything I wanna do to you with all the shit there?”

Len just about loses the plot at the threat of going back to the kink store without underwear. He doesn't know if that feeling is kinky anticipation or straight-up arousal, and he's still not sure that's a line they wanna blur, but it's definitely a _hell yes_. "Uh." He presses his thighs together. "Yeah. The kink shop thing...yeah. I'd like that." He thinks about the rest of what's on offer. "Naked is...little bit riskier? Gonna have to check with me day of so I can tell you more clearly what my brain's doing. Spanking is good." The thought of being taken over Mick's knee again the way he was when he was being bratty is...yeah, he could do that.

Mick gets this little smirk at Len’s reaction. When he speaks, his tone’s weirdly soft, though. “Checking everything day-of is fine. When d’you wanna do this?”

Len hums. “We could...now that we have a plan, you can kinda surprise me on a day where your brain's being most cooperative?” Of the two of them, Mick has more noticeable bad days. Len’s brain is an uncooperative piece of shit, but at least it’s relatively consistent about it. “When we get up, tell me to leave off the underwear. If it's genuinely a bad day for me, I'll let you know...otherwise don't take anything along the lines of 'fuck off' seriously."

Mick gives him a slow, wicked grin that has him melting again. “Oh, don’t worry,” he says. “Gonna take it _very_ seriously. You’ll feel every one of those shitty little things you say that day.” He nods at his partner, raising his beer at him. “I’m game. You’ll find out when.”

Len takes a sip of water and does his best to ignore that anticipatory feeling. Oh, but he's going to enjoy this.


End file.
